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THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

PRESENTED  BY 

PROF.  CHARLES  A.  KOFOID  AND 

MRS.  PRUDENCE  W.  KOFOID 


Travels  in 
The  Old  World 


Illustrated. 


BY 


REV.  J.  M.   ROWLAND 

Editor  Richmond  Christian  Advocate,  Richmond,  Va. 

Author  of: 
'Blue  Ridge  Breezes"  and  "A  Pilgrimage  to  Palestine. 


APPEALS  PRESS.  INC. 
Richmond,  Va. 


1922 


-art 


I        Copyright  1922 
by 

J.  M.  Rowland, 
Richmond,  Va. 


The  Author. 


"3D5V: 

M 


Dedication 

To  my  wife  who  followed  my  journey 

with  her  prayers  and  met  me 

when  my  ship  sailed  in 

and 

to  the  party  of  genial  sunny  souls 

who  helped  me  all  they  could  to 

make  the  Pilgrimage  of  1921 

all  that  heart  could  wish 

These  pages 
are  tenderly  inscribed. 


PREFACE. 

When  my  first  book  was  printed,  I  did  not  dream 
by  this  time  six  thousand  would  be  sold.  Little 
advertising  has  been  done.  The  folks  who  read 
them,  have  sold  them.  I  have  yielded  to  the  many 
calls  to  issue  another  book  on  Travels  in  The  Old 
World,  and  I  send  it  forth  with  a  tender  wish  that 
it  may  receive  as  warm  a  welcome  in  the  world  as 
the  others  have.  To  my  old  friends — known  and 
unknown — who  have  read  my  pages  and  sent  me 
greetings,  I  herewith  return  the  best  greetings  of 
my  heart. 

Part  of  the  first  book, — the  historic  facts — ap- 
pear in  this  book  but  the  most  of  it  is  rewritten. 
It  makes  no  claim  to  stateliness  and  dignity  and 
none  to  scholarship  and  literature.  It  will  shock 
some.  It  goes  the  Pilgrim  Path  with  a  smile  and 
a  hop,  but  with  bared  head  and  bowed  heart  it 
approaches  softly  Holy  Shrines  and  Truths.  It  is 
written  in  the  writer's  own  way.  If  he  writes  at 
all,  he  must  write  that  way.  It  goes  forth  with  a 
prayer  that  it  may  cheer  and  help  and  make  people 
more  interested  in  the  Pilgrim  Path. 

THE  AUTHOR. 

Travelers  Rest, 
3812  Hawthorne, 
Richmond,  Va. 


INTRODUCTION. 

By  Dr.  G.  T.  Rowe, 
Book  Editor  of  the  M.  E.  Church,  South. 

Let  me  say  right  at  the  beginning  that  the  reader 
who  takes  this  book  in  hand  has  a  delightful  treat 
in  store.  The  next  best  thing  to  taking  a  trip 
abroad  is  following  the  meanderings  of  a  man  who 
knows  how  to  travel  with  his  eyes  open  and  to  des- 
cribe the  things  the  reader  would  have  noticed,  if 
he  had  been  along.  As  I  have  read  some  books  of 
travel  I  have  wondered  why  the  writer  left  his 
comfortable  home,  when  all  of  his  material  could 
have  been  gotten  from  Baedeker  and  the  Encyclo- 
paedia Britannica,  and  have  not  been  surprised  to 
learn  that  such  productions  are  not  in  general  de- 
mand. It  takes  more  than  a  succession  of  facts  to 
make  a  book  of  travel  interesting.  The  writer  must 
have  sympathy  and  humor  and  imagination.  These 
the  reader  will  find  in  Mark  Twain  and  J.  M.  Row- 
land. I  do  not  hesitate  to  couple  these  two  illustri- 
ous names  together.  The  broad  humor  of  exagger- 
tion  of  the  former  enlivens  the  account  of  the  pur- 
chase of  a  pair  of  gloves  in  Paris  or  the  description 
of  the  appetite  of  a  camel  in  the  Holy  land,  while 
the  sly  touches  of  the  latter  relieve  the  soberness 
of  the  narrative  at  every  turn. 

The  value  of  a  book  of  this  kind  depends  as  much 
upon  the  kind  of  man  that  does  the  traveling  as 
upon  the  extent  and  duration  of  the  journey.  The 
Author  of  Travels  in  the  Old  World  acknowledges 
that  he  is  described  in  his  passport  as  "red-headed," 
and  while  that  color  of  hair  was  not  supposed  until 


zrz*T>^  WOO/I 


recent  years  to  enhance  the  pulchritude  of  either 
man  or  woman,  it  has  always  been  taken  as  an 
indication  of  alertness  of  mind.  Everybody  knows 
that  red-headed  people  are  unusually  bright.  More- 
over, everybody  loves  a  red-headed  man,  because  his 
heart  goes  out  to  everybody.  J.  M.  Rowland  took 
to  Europe  and  the  Near  East  a  genial  soul,  enriched 
by  divine  grace,  and  his  candid  manner  was  a  pass- 
port to  the  hearts  of  the  people  everywhere.  Hence 
the  book  abounds  with  human  interest.  One  glance 
convinced  the  most  suspicious  officer  that  he  was  not 
a  spy,  or  a  fomenter  of  revolution,  and  even  the 
custom  houses  took  his  word  for  what  was  in  his 
baggage.  Having  steeped  his  mind  for  years  in 
the  history  of  the  lands  that  he  had  long  hoped  to 
visit,  he  was  prepared  to  appreciate  the  significance 
of  sights  and  scenes,  and  to  adorn  his  narrative  with 
historic  allusion  and  incident.  Consequently,  the 
reader  will  find,  as  he  goes  along,  that  he  is  being 
instructed,  as  well  as  entertained. 

Travels  in  the  Old  World  will  advertise  itself.  No 
one  will  be  able  to  read  it  without  quoting  from 
it  and  relating  incidents  recorded  in  it,  and  the 
reader  of  each  copy  of  the  book  will  create  a  demand 
for  others.  My  excuse  for  complying  with  the 
author's  request  for  a  word  of  introduction  lies  in 
the  fact  that  I  was  a  member  of  the  company  on 
the  return  end  of  the  European  part  of  the  journey, 
and  I  am  rather  proud  to  have  my  name  carried 
far  and  wide  by  the  nimble  pen  of  so  ready  a  writer. 
The  other  members  of  that  congenial  group  will  be 
glad  to  be  assured  that,  although  the  author  threat- 
ens to  write  of  their  pranks  and  foibles  without 
fear  or  favor,  he  really  does  exercise  a  judicious 


reserve,  which  prevents  any  one  of  them  from  suf- 
fering in  the  eyes  of  his  fellow-countrymen.  And 
yet,  if  he  had  told  all,  it  would  not  have  been  so 
bad,  for  while  that  party  followed  to  some  extent  the 
old  adage,  ''when  in  Rome  do  as  the  Romans  do," 
they  did  not  do  all  that  the  Romans  do — or  the 
Parisians  either.  And  while  all  of  them  heartily 
despised  each  other  in  turn,  as  travelers  are  wont 
to  do,  every  one  would  desire  to  take  a  second  trip 
with  the  very  same  crowd,  and  have  as  their  leader 
the  same  red-headed  and  red-blooded  American, 
who  did  not  hesitate  upon  occasion  to  show  his  con- 
tempt for  a  head  waiter  or  to  stand  up  for  his 
rights  in  the  face  of  the  whole  French  army. 

GILBERT  T.  ROWE. 
Nashville,  Tenn. 


CONTENTS. 


Chapter.  Page. 

I.  Getting  a  Passport   15 

II.  The  Effects  of  Travel 21 

III.  Outward  Bound    27 

IV.  Through  Austria-Hungary  and  the  Balkan  States     39 
V.  Among  the  Turks    45 

VI.  The  Moral  and  Religious  Conditions  of  Turkey. .  56 

VII.  Some  Incidents  of  the  Second  Tour 65 

VIII.  Snapshots  on  the  Seas — We  get  Sea-Sick 72 

IX.  Some  Other  Incidents — My  Lost  Cheese 85 

X.  Hitting  the  High  Places 97 

XI.  A  Visit  to  Smyrna 116 

XII.  On  Mars'  Hill   129 

XIII.  Over  the  Seas  to  Egypt 137 

XIV.  In  the  Land  of  ths  Pharaohs 144 

XV.  Climbing  the  Great  Pyramid   164 

X\I.  Among  the  Traders  and  Beggars  of  the  East. . . .  186 

XVII.  In  Sunny  Italy   196 

XVIII.  On  the  Shores  of  Canaan 232 

XIX.  Religious  and  Social  Conditions  of  Palestine 248 

XX.  Motoring  Over  Holy  Hills   260 

XXI.  Story  of  the  Lost  Bible   271 

XXII.  Dining  in  Galilee  278 

XXIII.  In  Jerusalem    287 

XXIV.  About  the  Walls  of  Zion   308 

XXV.  On  ths  Site  of  the  Temple  324 

XXVI.  In  the  Garden  of 334 

XXVII.  Bethlehem  and  Hebron   342 

XXVIII.  Jericho,  the  Jordan  and  the  Dead  Sea 359 

XXIX.  Over  the  Hills  to  Nazareth 370 

XXX.  On  Lake  Galilee   390 

XXXI.  Damascus  and  the  Lebanon  Mountain 405 

XXXII.  Coming  Home  Through  Clouds  of  War 415 

Letters    433 


PROLOGUE. 

Have  you  ever  had  Travel  fever?    Did  you  feel 
the  germ  creeping  in  your  blood  and  wings  beating 
against  your  heart  doors  as  you  longed  to  fly  up 
and  out  and  on?    Did  you  ever  hear  the  call  of  the 
sun  as  He  flamed  the  East  with  morning  glory, 
chasing  out  the  dark  and  as  He  threw  his  good- 
night kiss  back  at  you  as  He  dipped  his  red  char- 
iot in  the  distant  blue?    Has  the  long  white  wind- 
ing road  held  out  beckoning  hands  and  pled  with 
you  to  go  on  and  on  to  find  its  end?    Is  the  clank 
of  the  train  wheels  on  the  jointed  rails  sweet  music 
to  your  soul  as  the  fields  and  woods  rush  by?    Has 
fthe   rainbow  begged  you  to  go  on  to  the  place 
where  its  radiance  kissed  the  ground  in  search  of 
the  pot  of  Gold?    Or  has  the  moaning  tides  coring 
in  at  your  feet  sung  songs  of  lands  afar  where  voices 
were  strange  and  dress  and  manners  weired  and 
varied?    And  has  the  sails  of  boats  called  you  to 
come  on  to  ports  beyond  where  your  feet  would 
walk  strange  paths,  your  ears  hear  strange  sounds 
and  your  eyes  see  strange  sights?    Have  you  felt 
the  urge  in  your  soul  to  go  to  ancient  shrines  and 
historic  places  where  the  race  was  rocked  in  its 
cradle,  and  you  could  dig  in  ashes  of  buried  em- 
pires and  see  relics  of  dead  dynasties  and  remnants 
of  ancient  glory  and  forgotten  lore?    And  have  you 
longed  to  put  your  feet  in  the  foot  prints  of  the 
great  priests  and  prophets  of  the  past  and  come  at 
last  walking  softly  to  the  spot  where  the  Son  of 
Man  and  God  was  born,  lived  and  died  and  lived 
again  the  blessed  life? 
Then  come  on — 


A  FOREWORD. 

(To  the  first  book). 

There  is  no  reason  why  this  book  should  be  writ- 
ten. Perhaps  my  friends  should  have  secured  a  re- 
straining order  from  the  courts  to  prevent  my  at- 
tempt at  a  forcible  entrance  into  the  Literary  World, 
but  they  did  not,  and  the  book  is  from  the  press. 
A  book  without  a  demand !  It  is  true  three  friends 
have  said  they  would  buy  it,  but  that  was  before 
they  saw  it. 

I  read  the  other  day  the  Introduction  to  a  Book 
of  Travels  by  a  lady.  She  said  her  reason  for  print- 
ing the  book  was  self-defense.  She  had  given  the 
travels  to  the  papers  in  a  series  of  articles.  The 
people  had  urged  her  to  put  it  in  book  form,  bu\ 
she  declined.  Then  the  people  were  in  the  act  of 
committing  bold  trespass  and  printing  her  writings* 
whether  or  no.  So  to  keep  the  people  from  forcibly 
publishing  it  in  undesirable  form,  she  had,  after 
long  and  careful  contemplation,  decided  to  publish 
+h^  book  herself;  not  because  she  wanted  to,  bu* 
oecause  she  was  forced  to. 

When  I  read  this,  I  waited  patiently  for  develop- 
ments. I  had  given  a  number  of  articles  on  my 
travels  to  the  papers,  and  I  had  lectured  in  a  num- 
ber of  places.  So  I  waited  for  a  deputation  of 
aroused  and  enthused  citizens  to  come  in  great  zeal 
and  determination,  demanding  that  I  write  a  book: 
but  they  have  not  come.  A  number  of  publishers 
and  book  men  have  been  to  see  me,  but  they  did  not 


12  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

come  with  a  pistol  in  their  hand  to  force  me  to  pub- 
lish a  book.  They  all  seemed  to  have  more  books 
than  they  could  manage  already.  Their  offer  usu- 
ally sounded  something  like  selling  me  "Kilpatrick's 
Universal  Encyclopedia  and  Compendium  of  Science 
and  Literature,"  illustrated,  with  index,  and  cover- 
ing every  phase  and  form  of  life  from  how  to  raise 
babies  to  how  to  become  President  of  the  United 
States  (neither  of  which  the  agent  could  do).  This 
wonderful  set,  which  was  endorsed  by  Dr.  C.  W. 
Elliott  and  W.  H.  Taft,  they  would  sell  me  for  five 
dollars  a  month — for  nine  hundred  and  ninety-nine 
months  (my  main  reason  for  not  buying  things  this 
way  is  it  makes  time  fly  so  fast) — and  throw  in  a 
lot  in  San  Diego,  California,  and  a  new  war  atlas. 

They  came  with  such  offers  as  these,  but  never  to 
try  to  make  me  write  a  book.  And  I  never  dreamed 
I  would  write  a  book  of  my  travels,  until  awhile  ago 
in  reading  that  admirable  book,  "Out  of  Doors  in 
Palestine,"  by  Dr.  Henry  Van  Dyke.  In  giving  his 
reason  for  writing  it  he  said  he  knew  many  books 
had  been  written  on  Palestine  and  people  might 
say  there  were  no  more  needed,  but  he  thought  there 
were  flowers  enough  on  the  Holy  Hills  for  every  one 
to  come  back  with  a  bouquet.  So  here  I  come  with 
these  pages — flowers  in  a  little  bouquet  which  I 
place  in  the  hands  of  my  friends. 

I  know  some  of  them  are  wilted  flowers,  and  in 
some  of  them  there  are  thorns.  I  know  some  of 
them  are  such  common-place  blossoms  that  many 
people  will  cast  them  aside  as  unworthy  to  be  put 
on  their  table.     But  if  any  of  these  pages  should 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  13 

chance  to  be  a  flower  that  brings  any  beauty  or 
fragrance  to  the  heart  of  any  of  my  friends,  my 
heart  will  be  glad  and  my  labor  will  be  rewarded. 

No  attempt  at  scholarship  has  been  made,  and 
no  effort  at  literary  attainment  has  been  undertaken. 
These  pages  are  rather  the  plain  musings  of  a  hum- 
ble soul  and  the  impressions  of  a  heart  that  has  been 
touched.  It  is  written  in  that  heart's  own  way,  with 
nobody  for  a  pattern  and  no  other  hand  guiding  the 
pen.  It  is  withal  the  plain,  frank  words  of  a  heart 
that  believes  and  feels,  and  therefore  speaks. 

Special  appreciation  is  extended  to  Rev.  J.  J. 
Wicker,  D.  D.  and  Mr.  J.  J.  Wicker,  Jr.,  of  Rich- 
mond, managers  of  the  Wicker  Tours,  whose  courte- 
sies and  friendship  was  invaluable;  to  George  Jal- 
louk  the  best  of  Guides  and  Dragomen ;  to  Dr.  Squires 
of  Norfolk,  who  allowed  me  the  use  of  some  of  his 
pictures;  to  the  members  of  my  churches  (Ri Ver- 
mont Church,  Lynchburg,  and  Laurel  Street  Church, 
Richmond)  ;  to  Miss  Janie  Lipes  of  Lynchburg  my 
efficient  secretary — for  the  interest  they  took  in 
my  travels;  and  last  but  not  least  to  the  members 
of  our  party  whose  fellowship,  patience  and  good 
nature  made  the  trip  a  success. 


MY  PILGRIMAGE. 

In  the  far-away  land  of  Egypt 
I  gazed  on  the  setting  sun, 
As  I  stood  on  the  sand,  with  my  staff  in  my  hand, 
At  eve  when  the  day  was  done. 

I  stood  in  the  courts  of  Rome, 
And  thought  of  her  days  so  great, 
When  in  her  gold  and  her  glory  she  wrote  her  own 
story 

In  the  sin  that  sealed  her  fate. 

I  walked  through  the  city  of  Zion, 
So  hallowed  in  life  and  in  lore, 
Where  her  priests  and  her  king  made  all  her  hills 
ring 

In  praise  to  the  God  we  adore. 

I  walked  where  the  Master  went 
By  the  side  of  the  far-famed  sea, 
As  the  winds  blew  o'er  the  wave-washed  shore 
Of  beautiful  Galilee. 

I  walked  in  the  Garden  of  God, 
That  men  call  Gethsemane, 
And  the  moon  shone  bright,  that  beautiful  night, 
Where  Christ  won  Heaven  for  me. 


CHAPTER  I. 

GETTING  A  PASSPORT. 

It  is  a  great  sport.  Seeing  Babe  Ruth  hurl  the 
ball  is  tame  and  an  old  southern  fox  hunt  with 
forty  hounds  in  full  cry  on  the  heels  of  old  Red  is 
a  second  class  show.  Charles  Chaplin  and  a  meet- 
ing of  the  Board  of  Stewards  together  cannot  fur- 
nish as  much  fun. 

It  seems  it  would  be  an  easy  task  to  leave  your 
native  land  for  a  little  trip  to  see  your  cousins  over 
seas  but  the  telephone  girl  gave  you  the  wrong 
number  when  she  thus  connected  you  with  informa- 
tion. 

You  will  find  your  wife  and  all  the  neighbors 
glad  to  see  you  go  and  all  their  little  niceties  are 
clone  to  show  it.  If  you  are  a  preacher,  the  Board 
of  Stewards  will  hear  your  plea  for  travel  and  study 
with  as  much  gravity  as  the  Hebrew  Sanhedrin 
selecting  the  scape  goat  that  is  to  be  driven  into  the 
wilderness.  Then  Col.  Grimes  and  Bill  Stone  will 
gravely  speak  and  say  that  they  do  not  see  how  in 
the  world  the  church  will  get  along  without  you 
and  that  you  will  be  missed  more  than  Woodrow 
Wilson  was  when  he  went  to  Paris.  But  in  all  their 
hearts,  they  are  thanking  the  Lord  you  are  going 
and  are  vowing  they  too  will  have  a  rest  and  not 
go  to  church  until  you  return,  not  even  the  Sunday 
the  Elder  preaches. 

But  the  strange  thing  is,  your  Uncle  Sam  seems 
gravely  concerned  about  your  departure  and  has 


16  TRAVELS   IN   THE  OLD   WORLD 

Philadelphia  lawyers  and  the  experts,  who  muddle 
railroad  time  tables,  and  the  doctors,  who  write  un- 
readable prescriptions,  all  to  combine  and  work  in 
full  committee  designing  a  series  of  entanglements 
and  manufacturing  a  quantity  of  red  tape  that 
would  have  made  Julius  Caesar  say  something  else 
besides  "Gall  is  divided  into  three  parts." 

This  is  what  I  found  when  with  all  my  comrades 
I  tried  my  little  trip.  I  received  all  due  informa- 
tion with  exhibit  a  b  c  from  Dan  to  Beersheba  so  to 
speak  and  set  about  the  task  of  getting  my  pass- 
port. 

I  was  told  the  first  thing  was  to  produce  a  birth 
certificate  to  convince  my  Uncle  on  my  Father's 
side  that  the  alleged  owner  of  the  name  I  was  re- 
puted to  bear  was  really  and  truly  born  one  time, 
somewhere  and  was  therefore  the  party  of  the  first 
part. 

Here  I  was  to  speak  for  myself  but  they  would 
not  take  that  as  evidence.  I  did  not  remember  where 
nor  when  I  threw  my  hat  in  the  ring  but  felt  I  had 
reasonable  evidence  that  I  was  born  somewhere 
and  in  the  days  of  my  coming,  birth  certificates  like 
Fords  were  unknown.  Folks  had  something  else  to 
do  besides  filing  affidavits  and  sending  out  perfumed 
announcements  every  time  there  was  such  a  trivial 
occurrence  as  another  kid  born  into  the  flock. 

Then  I  was  told  that  I  would  have  to  get  some 
reputable  citizen  to  swear  in  the  presence  of  a 
Notary  Public  where  and  when  to  the  best  of  his 
belief  the  accused  was  born  if  at  all,  and  if  so,  why 
not?    I  thought  of  a  friend,  who  would  thus  swear 


Teorge  Jallouk.    The  best  of  guides,  kindest  of  friends. 
The  more  you  see  of  him  the  better  you  love  him. 


TRAVELS  IN  THE  OLD  WORLD  17 

for  me.  He  will  swear  on  slight  provocation  and 
didn't  mind  doing  it  in  the  presence  of  a  Notorious 
Republican  for  he  will  even  swear  in  the  presence 
of  gentlemen.  So  he  came  forward  and  swore  I  was 
born  Jan.  9,  1880,  at  Rowland,  N.  C,  according  to 
the  best  of  his  knowledge  and  belief,  tho  both  of 
these  things  with  him  were  scant.  He  has  never  been 
to  Rowland  and  does  not  know  whether  I  saw  the 
light  in  frozen  Siberia  or  the  Fiji  Islands. 

This  being  fixed,  I  was  told  I  would  have  to  have 
my  boss  to  swear  why  I  was  going  and  give  his 
permission.  I  got  my  Presiding  Elder  to  do  this 
swearing  for  me. 

Then  I  had  to  go  to  the  photographer  and  have 
a  full  face  picture  taken  to  put  on  the  passport  and 
take  some  extra  ones  along  to  put  in  foreign  rogues 
galleries.  I  always  feel  and  look  like  a  nut  having 
my  picture  taken  and  rather  have  a  back  view  than 
full  face  but  I  had  to  do  it.  Then  I  had  to  get  the 
picture  man  to  swear  it  was  my  picture  so  they 
would  take  it. 

Armed  with  these  things  I  went  to  the  clerk  of 
the  court,  who  sat  me  down  and  looked  at  me  as  if 
I  was  "particeps  criminis"  in  the  Wall  Street  ex- 
plosion and  demanded  me  to  answer  the  following 
suggestions  describing  myself. 

I  was  asked  of  my  age,  which  I  told.  Since  I 
was  not  responsible  for  it,  I  was  not  ashamed  of  it, 
and  I  told  it.  Then  he  asked  my  height  and  weight. 
I  measured  my  height  and  got  that  right.  He  called 
my  forehead  high,  tho  I  dislike  the  term  high  headed 
and  big  headed  as  much  as  anything  I  know. 


18  TRAVELS  IN  THE  OLD  WORLD 

My  eyes  were  blue  and  my  nose  he  called  medium, 
whatever  that  means.  My  chin  he  put  down  as 
medium  and  my  hair  as  red  and  gray,  the  last  of 
which  made  me  sad.  My  complexion  was  fair.  But 
the  last  two  things  stumped  us  and  it  was  here  we 
almost  had  a  fight  and  seemed  dangerously  near 
calling  off  the  whole  thing. 

He  had  to  record  the  kind  of  a  face  and  mouth  I 
had.  He  could  not  tell  and  he  asked  me.  Now 
reader  if  you  are  reading  and  did  not  get  disgusted 
long  ago,  you  do  not  know  how  hard  it  is  to  put 
down  on  paper  in  a  sworn  statement  the  kind  of  a 
face  and  mouth  you  have  unless  you  have  tried. 

Some  friend  in  the  room  suggested  I  had  an  in- 
growing face  and  I  told  him  I  would  see  him  later. 
Another  said  it  was  a  sneaking  face  and  the  look  I 
gave  him  was  good  evidence. 

Someone  said  my  mouth  was  of  the  Henry  Cabot 
Lodge  variety  and  another  thought  it  was  of  the 
George  Harvey  brand — just  runs  without  knowing 
where  it  is  going. 

But  reader  what  kind  of  a  mouth  have  you?  A 
kind  and  gentle  one  that  cheers  and  helps  and  com- 
forts and  encourages  or  one  that  cuts  and  knocks 
and  hurts  and  growls  and  complains?  Finally  he 
put  mine  down  as  medium,  whatever  that  means, 
and  I  wonder  if  he  was  right.  It  seemed  he  was  get- 
ting me  too  much  in  the  medium  class.  But  I  hope 
that  in  doing  the  real  service  a  normal  mouth  was 
meant  to  do,  mine  is  even  medium.  My  face  he 
said  was  oval  which  sounds  better  than  saying  it 
was  square,  oblong,  three  cornered  or  mule  faced. 
But  between  us  it  is  not  oval. 


TRAVELS  IN  THE  OLD  WORLD  19 

Then  I  paid  him  $9.00,  war  tax  and  post  mortem 
expenses  and  we  went  on  to  Washington  to  do  some 
more  red  tape  stunts.  We  had  to  run  the  gauntlet 
of  the  state  department  for  extensions  and  begin 
that  marvelous  and  interesting  game  of  having  it 
vised  before  all  the  foreign  consuls  whose  countries 
we  were  to  visit  and  there  receive  a  stamp  with  the 
King's  photo  and  license  to  be  skinned  in  that  par- 
ticular land  and  for  this  privilege,  pay  what  al- 
together made  $33.00  more  which  went  to  buy  more 
war  ships  to  whip  some  future  king,  who  might 
try  the  "Me  and  Gott  stunt." 

The  first  was  the  Italian  office  and  after  waiting 
in  line  and  measuring  enough  Italian  red  tape  to 
throttle  an  octopus,  we  came  out  with  proper  en- 
dorsement signed  by  Hon.  Guisseppelesante  Vetes 
bearing  this  significant  statement  "Deriti  hero  ono 
assuguanto"  which  cost  $10.00. 

Then  we  did  the  same  preliminary  stunt  over  at 
the  office  of  the  Swiss  Legation  and  an  official  with 
more  dignity  than  George  Harvey  has  of  brass  filled 
out  a  little  pamphlet  that  looked  like  Blums'  Al- 
manac, pasted  it  neatly  in  and  signed  his  name  D. 
C.  Jenny,  Secretaire  de  Legation  Suesse,  Washing- 
ton, D.  C.,  and  $2.00  we  paid  and  told  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Jenny  as  the  case  may  be  good-bye  and  made  for 
the  other  red  tape  mills.  At  the  Greek  office  when 
our  turn  came,  he  wrote  on  a  place  after  affixing 
stamps — "Bon  pour  serendere  en  Grese  Le  Direct 
our  D.  C.  Le  St  Joe  121"  and  signed  L.  Koundou- 
mauke — which  in  English  may  mean  Jim  Jones. 

Then  likewise  to  the  French,  the  Belgium,  Eng- 


20  TRAVELS  IN  THE  OLD  WORLD 

lish,  Holland  and  all  the  others.    The  last  thing  was 
the  picture  of  King  George  which  cost  $5.00. 

Then  we  were  told  we  must  get  another  reput- 
able man  to  swear  if  we  never  came  back,  he  would 
pay  our  income  tax  and  also  get  a  sworn  statement 
from  the  Collector  of  Revenue  saying  we  had  al- 
ready paid  up.  This  enabled  us  to  get  a  sailing 
permit,  which  with  our  baggage  and  a  certificate 
that  we  had  been  vaccinated  for  several  diseases 
enabled  us  to  board  a  steamer  for  the  land  of  wait- 
ing pirates,  who  would  skin  us  of  what  hide  the 
diplomats  had  left. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE  EFFECTS  OF  TRAVEL. 

There  are  a  great  many  effects  that  come  from 
travel.  We  are  told  it  broadens  folks.  It  some- 
times narrows  folks  and  belittles  them.  It  is  ex- 
hausting to  your  pocketbook,  your  patience  and 
the  opinions  your  friends  have  of  you.  It  makes 
some  folks  love  the  old  world  more  and  makes  some 
others  hate  it.  It  causes  some  people  to  think  they 
know  everything  and  others  to  think  they  know 
nothing. 

One  of  the  far  reaching  effects  of  travel  and  one 
fraught  with  most  danger,  is  the  close  association 
that  will  make  us  know  too  much  about  one  an- 
other by  living  together  at  close  range.  We  find 
out  who  snores,  and  who  eats  onions  and  who  chews 
gum,  who  has  any  divorced  relatives,  who  belongs 
to  different  churches,  who  are  Republicans  and 
Democrats,  who  says  "ither  and  nither"  and  in  all 
this  private  and  detailed  information  comes  trouble 
and  disaster. 

There  is  a  fine  looking  woman  we  have  honored 
and  admired  and  three  days  out,  it  leaks  out  thru 
her  roommate,  who  remarked  in  the  profoundest 
secrecy  to  the  wife  of  a  friend  in  the  party  that 
she  has  false  hair  and  false  teeth.  There  is  a  digni- 
fied Doctor  of  Divinity,  we  honored  and  respected 
but  we  have  to  eat  by  him  at  the  table  and  soon 
learn  he  does  not  put  on  the  muffler  when  he  eats 
soup  and  that  he  insists  on  rehearsing  the  smart 
antics  of  his  baby  boy.    This  ruins  him  forever. 


22  TRAVELS  IN  THE  OLD  WORLD 

There  is  a  beautiful  young  woman  sweet  as  an 
Elberta  Peach  and  as  fine  a  picture  as  an  artist 
could  paint.  We  classed  her  as  among  those  beyond 
this  earth  when  in  less  than  a  week,  we  saw  her 
turning  up  her  nose  at  everything  and  pouting  like 
a  swell  toad. 

Here  is  a  man  we  thought  the  personification  of 
chivalry,  when  we  discover  he  picks  over  a  dish 
to  get  the  best  portion  for  himself,  slips  into  the 
best  seat  first  and  considers  no  one  but  himself. 

The  tragedy  of  life  is  in  seeing  one  another  at 
close  range.  It  is  a  hazardous  thing  to  do.  The 
old  proverb  says,  no  house  is  big  enough  to  hold 
two  women  and  like  Postum  "There's  a  Reason." 
They  learn  too  much  of  each  other. 

It  is  sad  to  see  some  folks  at  close  range.  The 
microscope  brings  out  the  defects.  Close  gazing  at 
the  canvas  reveals  a  gob  of  paint  on  a  cloth  and 
not  the  fine  lines  of  a  masterpiece.  The  beautiful 
face  of  the  sweetest  woman  under  a  powerful  magni- 
fying glass  reveals  great  black  spots  and  hairy  hor- 
rors like  a  briar  patch. 

Our  wives  know  all  about  us  but  with  them  char- 
ity covers  a  multitude  of  faults.  She  will  read  to  us 
all  our  defects  and  short  comings  but  she  will  raise 
a  rough  house  if  another  woman  even  finds  out 
one  of  them  and  speaks  of  it.  She  will  to  the  whole 
world  then  proclaim  us  perfect. 

But  the  difference  is  when  we  know  other  people 
at  close  range  like  this  there  is  no  love  that  covers 
a  multitude  of  faults,  but  a  criticism  that  magnifies 
them.    Whoever  heard  of  one  man  or  woman  lov- 


TRAVELS  IN  THE  OLD  WORLD  23 

ing  and  respecting  their  roommate  who  snored! 
All  they  would  want  to  lynch  the  offender  would 
be  for  someone  to  start  the  mob. 

What  a  pity  we  have  to  know  so  much  about  one 
another  when  we  travel.  If  there  was  some  way  to 
stay  in  glass  cases  a  good  deal  of  the  time  and 
not  force  our  personality  on  our  comrades,  how 
much  better  it  would  be.  You  are  not  long  out 
when  you  hear  the  different  ones  saying,  "He  is 
not  the  man  I  thought  he  was."  "I  am  certainly 
surprised  in  her."    "Who  would  have  thought." 

But  there  are  some  folks — we  hope  a  large  num- 
ber of  folks  who  like  a  shoe  feel  better  on  the  foot 
the  more  you  wear  them.  They  improve  on  close 
acquaintance.  Not  that  they  look  prettier  and  more 
perfect  under  the  high  power  glass  of  close  inspec- 
tion, but  that  they  show  up  to  be  real  humans  the 
more  you  know  them.  You  have  found  some  of  these 
— the  real  true  travelers  of  life.  Happy  are  you  if 
in  the  road  of  life  as  you  jog  along  with  your  friends 
you  are  one  of  those  who  wear  well,  and  more  and 
more  at  close  contact  prove  yourself  real  human 
and  not  polish  even  of  the  highest  quality  or  worse 
still  cheap  veneer. 

And  herein  lies  one  of  the  best  things  of  travel. 
I  would  never  have  known  how  real,  how  true,  how 
human  some  of  my  friends  were  if  I  had  not  travel- 
led with  them  at  close  range — and  listen  a  minute — 
much  of  the  wrong  was  in  me  for  magnifying  the 
short  comings  and  not  magnifying  the  virtues. 

It  is  interesting  to  study  the  distinctive  products 
of  different  cities  you  visit  when  touring  the  old 


24  TRAVELS  IN  THE  OLD  WORLD 

world.  These  old  cities  may  hold  all  sorts  of  things 
but  each  one  will  claim  some  products  distinctive 
above  the  others. 

In  Naples  you  buy  Roman  Pearl  beads.  In  Rome 
you  look  for  cameos,  while  in  Florence  your  hunt  is 
for  mosaics — the  finest  in  the  world.  Then  in 
Venice,  you  go  wild  over  Venetian  glass. 

Of  course,  you  can't  be  a  tourist  without  be- 
ing a  nut  and  while  you  will  travel  all  the  main 
methods  of  locomotion,  by  boat,  rail,  auto,  carriage, 
tallyho,  donkey,  camel,  gondola,  aeroplane  your  main 
method  of  getting  about  will  be  riding  hobbies.  You 
may  never  have  developed  any  special  mania  for 
hobbyriding  at  home  save  when  you  took  the  children 
to  the  park  to  ride  the  hobby-horses.  Your  wife 
with  the  assistance  of  your  mother-in-law  may  have 
saved  you  from  the  hobby  mania.  You  may  not  be 
wedded  to  red  flannel  under  shirts,  derby  hats  and 
patent  medicines.  If  you  are  a  school  teacher,  the 
Board  of  Trustees  and  the  scholars  saw  to  it  that 
you  were  saved  from  the  hobby  mania. 

But  once  you  join  a  tourist  party,  you  get  the  hob- 
by mania.  The  lady  from  South  Carolina  had  the 
disease  when  she  got  to  New  York  and  it  being  con- 
tagious everybody  caught  it.  Conspicuous  in  the 
list  is  the  kodak  hobbiest.  You  see  him  with  the 
little  black  case  strapped  on  his  shoulder  and  you 
know  the  jig  is  up.  Morning,  noon  and  night,  he 
must  be  busy  taking  pictures.  He  never  thinks  of 
anything  else.  Forty  times  a  day  he  insists  on  lin- 
ing the  whole  party  up  like  they  are  to  be  shot  and 
making  them  go  thru  the  ordeal  of  looking  pleasant 


TRAVELS  IN  THE  OLD  WORLD  25 

while  he  takes  your  pictures.  He  must  take  the 
guide's  picture,  the  horses'  picture  and  get  snap 
shots  of  all  the  tombs,  dogs  and  cats  you  pass. 

Then  you  have  the  germ  hobbiest.  And  of  all  the 
poor  nuts  of  the  seven  hundred  and  fifty-seven 
varieties  classified  in  the  Blue  Book  of  who  is  who 
among  nuts,  there  is  none  so  miserable  and  incur- 
able as  the  nut  who  thinks  some  little  bug  will  get 
you  if  you  don't  watch  out.  Sometimes  these  nuts 
are  women  and  sometimes  men.  They  are  afraid 
of  disease.  They  insist  on  having  the  pedigree  and 
family  history  of  all  the  cheese  and  macaroni.  They 
protest  about  the  bread  being  hauled  about  like 
wood.  They  are  always  looking  for  cooties.  They 
want  the  water  boiled  and  are  always  afraid  of 
catching  something. 

Then  you  have  one  or  more  whose  hobby  is  the 
diets  of  the  lands  you  visit.  He  attracts  attention 
by  what  he  pretends  to  know  about  the  things  they 
serve  to  eat.  He  claims  he  knows  what  it  all  is  and 
pretends  to  like  it.  He  eats  garlic  and  diseased 
cheese,  and  snails,  in  the  presence  of  all  the  others 
and  pretends  to  relish  it  when  in  reality  he  is 
punishing  himself  just  to  punish  other  people. 

Of  course  you  will  have  the  souvenir  hobbiest.  He 
or  she  will  risk  life  and  reputation  to  secure  a 
relic  from  every  place  he  visits.  He  loads  up  on 
rocks  from  many  places  and  does  not  know  where 
they  come  from.  He  will  steal  or  do  anything  for 
a  souvenir. 

Some  go  crazy  over  cameos  and  some  over  beads, 
some  over  mosaics,  and  some  over  silks,  some  over 


26  TRAVELS  IN  THE  OLD  WORLD 

walking  canes  and  some  over — but  all  go  crazy  over 
something. 

But  doubtless  the  most  detested  nut  that  travels 
in  tourist  party  is  the  one  who  tries  to  tell  you  every- 
thing about  the  places  you  are  to  visit.  If  there 
should  be  a  mob  that  should  tar  and  feather  this 
culprit,  they  should  be  excused.  Happy  are  you 
when  going  Abroad  if  you  do  not  fall  in  with  some 
one  who  has  been  before  and  wants  to  tell  you  every- 
thing. 

It  will  take  you  a  long  time  to  get  over  your  crazy 
spell  when  you  get  home  but  when  you  do  get  nor- 
mal, you  will  be  glad  you  went. 


CHAPTER  III. 

OUTWARD  BOUND. 
(1914) 

I  cannot  remember  the  time  in  my  life  when  I 
did  not  long  to  visit  the  old  world.  Especially  did 
I  hunger  for  travel  in  the  parts  of  the  world  from 
which  we  get  our  Bible  and  all  that  is  worth  while 
in  our  civilization  and  religion.  With  the  passing 
years  this  dream  became  a  passion  and  a  prayer. 
I  did  not  see  much  prospects  to  overcome  barriers 
and  go,  for  time  and  money  and  a  family  that  need- 
ed me,  came  first.  But  God  seemed  to  open  the  way 
and  move  some  hearts  to  open  doors. 

When  I  found  the  Wicker  party  was  going  right 
in  Richmond  where  I  was  living,  I  took  the  matter 
up  with  my  official  board  at  Laurel  St.  Church.  It 
was  asking  a  good  deal  to  expect  them  to  let  me  off 
the  whole  summer,  but  when  they  heard  me  timidly 
make  my  plan,  with  one  accord  they  voted,  they 
would  be  delighted  for  me  to  go.  I  have  learned  bet- 
ter since  then  that  church  boards  are  far  more  will- 
ing for  the  preacher  to  go  than  people  think.  If  Col. 
Grimes  the  Chairman  says  he  does  not  see  how  they 
can  possibly  live  without  him,  the  Colonel  is  hoping 
in  his  heart  the  parson  will  leave  and  give  him  and 
the  rest  of  the  board  a  chance  to  play  hooky  from 
church  all  summer. 

Then  I  went  to  the  Sunday  School  and  when  they 
heard  my  plea,  they  voted  with  one  accord  they 
would  be  highly  pleased  for  me  to  go.  Then  at  last 
I  mustered  couraged  to  tell  my  wife  I  had  decided 


28  TRAVELS  IN  THE  OLD  WORLD 

to  put  the  wide  ocean  between  us  and  journey  to 
lands  afar  where  I  might  be  like  Jonah  swallowed 
by  a  whale  or  like  the  man  on  the  Jericho  road  fall 
in  the  hands  of  custom  officers  who  would  take  all 
my  souvenirs  and  breaking  my  heart,  depart  leav- 
ing me  half  dead.  Instead  of  protesting  tears,  she 
smiled  her  sweetest  smile  and  said  it  would  make 
her  heart  ring  with  joy  for  me  to  do  so. 

Then  I  had  to  go,  for  I  had  burned  the  bridges. 
The  folks  had  a  farewell  service  and  presented  me 
with  a  handful  of  the  root  of  all  evil,  a  steamer  rug 
and  a  suitcase  to  take  a  clean  shirt  over  there  and 
bring  back  all  I  could  smuggle  in.  When  they  opened 
the  suitcase  a  mouse  jumped  out  and  made  for  the 
Sunday  school  entrance  embarrassing  the  ladies, 
who  wore  hobble  skirts  and  therefore  were  hampered 
in  retreating  under  fire.  A  wise  one  said  this  meant 
bad  luck,  and  his  warning  was  certainly  well 
founded  for  the  world  war  broke  out  that  summer 
and  an  Arab  stole  Bro.  L.  T.  Williams'  best  coat. 

The  trip  of  that  summer  was  a  rare  and  gracious 
privilege  and  brought  into  my  life  more  than  pen 
could  write  or  tongue  could  tell.  There  are  many 
rare  incidents  of  the  voyage  I  would  preserve  and 
rich  treasures  I  would  treasure.  They  are  preserv- 
ed in  the  first  book,  "A  Pilgrimage  to  Palestine." 
This  volume  will  give  some  of  these  but  the  most 
of  it  will  deal  with  the  second  tour  of  1921. 

SOME   INCIDENTS   OF   THE  FIRST   TOUR. 

The  majestic  boat  is  ready  to  turn  her  nose  to 
the  open  sea.     The  whistle  has  blown,  the  gang 


TRAVELS  IN  THE  OLD  WORLD  29 

plank  hauled  in  and  the  tug  boat  takes  her  like  an 
ant  lugging  a  huge  thing  and  turns  her  toward  the 
channel.  Handkerchiefs  wave,  tears  are  falling, 
the  shore  receding,  the  waters  churning,  the  wide 
sea  calling,  and  the  sun  sinking  in  the  reddening 
glory  of  the  west,  while  in  the  deepening  shadows 
the  shore  line  of  our  native  land  fades  in  the  gather- 
ing night  and  the  majestic  Staute  of  Liberty  with 
exalted  torch  waving  to  nations  beyond,  is  lost  to 
view  and  the  boat  with  her  great  heart  of  fire  and 
quivering  life  settles  herself  to  the  long  and  event- 
ful journey. 

This  ocean  journey  was  interesting  for  many 
reasons.  One  of  the  most  attractive  things  on  board 
was  the  large  amount  of  eating  that  was  done.  That 
has  always  been  interesting  to  me.  I  formed  the 
habit  early  in  life  and  have  never  been  able  to  break 
myself  of  it.  I  like  to  be  around  when  it  is  going 
on.  We  had  breakfast  at  7,  forenoon  lunch  at  10, 
noon  lunch  12  to  1 :30,  afternoon  tea  at  3  and  dinner 
from  6  to  7:30.  There  is  a  simple  reason  for  so 
much  eating  on  a  sea  journey.  You  cannot  always 
keep  what  you  eat  and  you  need  some  more  handy 
when  you  want  it. 

A  story  was  told  of  a  Kentucky  gentleman  on 
our  boat.  In  a  storm  when  the  sea  demons  roared 
and  the  wind  raged  at  eighty  miles  an  hour,  he  was 
found  on  the  outer  deck  praying  to  the  God  that 
holds  the  ocean  in  His  hands  and  confessing  all  the 
sins  he  had  ever  done.  As  a  friend  bent  over  his 
prostrate  form,  he  whispered, 


30  TRAVELS  IN  THE  OLD  WORLD 

"Jim  when  it  is  all  over,  take  my  remains  back  to 
old  Kentucky  where  the  grass  is  blue  and  the  wo- 
men true." 

There  came  another  surging  of  the  boat  as  she 
pitched  from  a  high  wave  into  the  trough  of  the  sea 
as  if  she  was  headed  for  the  regions  below  and  when 
the  sufferer  recovered  sufficient  strength  again,  he 
said  in  a  voice  more  feeble, 

"Jim,  you  needn't  bother  about  the  remains.  There 
aint  goin'  ter  be  enough  to  take  to  Kentucky." 

Another  reason  the  trip  was  interesting  was  be- 
cause the  boat  was  a  German  boat  and  the  crew 
and  many  passengers  of  that  Nation.  They  were 
very  interesting  folks  that  summer  and  the  longer 
we  stayed  with  them,  the  more  interesting  they  be- 
came until  we  were  almost  unable  to  tear  ourselves 
from  them  and  return  home. 

It  is  hard  to  live  in  peace  with  the  Germans  as 
the  following  incident  shows.  My  room-mate  was 
Rev.  L.  T.  Williams  of  the  Virginia  Conference. 
There  is  no  truer  man  and  like  Nathaniel  under  the 
fig  tree  he  is  almost — mind  you,  almost  a  man 
without  guile.  But  he  has  other  things  to  take  its 
place.  He  was  a  fine  room  mate  and  ever  kind  to 
me.  When  time  came  to  send  our  laundry  to  the 
laundry  woman,  he  took  mine  in  his  bundle  and  went 
on  a  hunt  for  her.  The  bundle  was  small,  for  we 
were  restricted  in  our  dry  goods  and  notions,  since 
all  we  took  went  in  one  big  suitcase  to  avoid  trouble 
and  extra  expense.  But  it  is  wonderful  how  well 
you  can  get  along  thus  limited.  The  ladies  would 
come  down  every  day  with  something  new  or  the 


TRAVELS  IN  THE  OLD  WORLD  31 

old  fixed  in  a  new  way.  But  give  a  woman  a  pow- 
der puff  and  a  varnish  brush  for  her  nose  and  she 
—but— 

Williams  came  back  saying  he  feared  we  would 
never  see  our  duds  any  more  for  the  laundress  was 
a  German  with  no  English  on  her  tongue.  I  sug- 
gested if  there  was  any  question,  we  would  use  the 
sign  language  on  her,  an  accomplishment  in  which 
we  were  making  honorable  mention.  And  when  he 
brought  the  bundle  back  to  the  state  room,  there 
was  a  question,  for  my  shirt  was  missing  and  a  fel- 
low needs  such  an  article  away  from  home.  I  told 
him  to  go  to  the  laundress  and  make  complaint  as 
she  might  remember  him,  but  would  never  remem- 
ber me.  He  went  and  in  a  minute,  I  heard  him 
talking  louder  and  louder  in  English  and  a  German 
woman  answering  back  louder  and  faster  in  German. 
It  seemed  like  diplomatic  relations  would  soon  be 
severed  if  some  intervention  did  not  take  place,  and 
I  went  with  all  speed  to  help  my  friend.  But  I  was 
too  late.  I  met  him  coming  in  full  retreat  with  a 
big  double  jointed  kraut  eating  female  hot  on  his 
trail.  I  retired  to  my  state  room  doubled  my  fists 
with  all  the  Protestant  blood  of  the  Stuart  charg- 
ing the  crimson  tide  of  my  ancestral  veins,  ready 
to  defend  my  private  quarters  from  the  invasion 
of  any  Teutonic  intruder.  I  looked  her  in  the  eye 
and  told  her  no  offense  was  meant  either  to  her 
or  to  the  House  of  Hohenzollern  but  the  whole  crux 
of  this  international  altercation  hinged  on  my  lost 
shirt  which  I  thought  she  had  and  since  she  could 
not  wear  it  (she  seemed  to  require  twice  that  size) 


32  TRAVELS  IN  THE  OLD  WORLD 

and  I  could,  I  would  be  grateful  to  her  to  produce 
it  since  it  was  rather  trying  on  a  man  of  dignity 
to  be  away  from  home  without  a  shirt. 

She  flashed  a  Hunish  and  evil  eye  on  me  and  di- 
rected a  finger  near  my  nose,  telling  me  in  a  lan- 
guage I  understood  that  we  had  made  a  mistake  for 
she  was  not  the  laundress  but  a  passenger  on  the 
boat — I  drop  the  curtain. 

That  afternoon  I  saw  a  German  mother  and  an 
American  mother.  Each  had  babies  about  the  same 
age.  Said  the  American  mother  (it  was  before  the 
war)  to  the  German  mother, 

"He  was  a  purty  little  tootsie  wootsie."  Said  the 
German  mother  to  the  American  mother, 

"He  vus  not  a  he,  he  vus  a  she." 
And  then  I  knew  baby  talk  was  the  same  the  world 
over. 

A  brother  could  not  get  his  food  fixed  right.  And 
of  all  the  folks,  who  have  a  pay  day  coming,  the 
traveler  in  a  party  -who  makes  demands  and  com- 
plaints is  on  his  way  to  his.  This  man  was  rich  and 
had  servants  coming  and  going.  He  had  his  way 
and  all  his  taste  called  for.  His  choice  hobby  was 
kicking  because  the  coffee  was  not  hot.  He  com- 
plained all  the  time  and  to  everybody.  One  morn- 
ing as  the  waiter  boy  came  behind  him  with  a 
waiter  full  of  coffee,  the  gentleman  was  absorbed 
with  his  snout  in  his  oatmeal  dish,  eating  without 
putting  the  muffler  on.  Some  one  touched  the  boy's 
elbow  and  he  deposited  two  cups  of  coffee  down  the 
gentleman's  neck.  He  leaped  in  the  air,  knocked 
over  his  chair  screaming, 


Our  girl.  Miss  Estelle  Warlick,  the  best  of  trav- 
elers— never  late,  never  complained,  never  sour.  She 
has  since  become  the  wife  of  Rev.  E.  L.  Hillman, 
pastor  of  the  Methodist  Church  in  Scotland  Neck, 
N.  C,  and  is  eminently  qualified  for  the  "Traveling 
Connection." 


Ready  for  the  Customs  Officers. 


TRAVELS   IN   THE  OLD  WORLD  33 

"Dog  bite  (?)  it.    I'm  scalded,  I'm  scalded." 
Before  I  thought,  I  said, 

"Well  Colonel,  I  am  glad  you  got  it  hot  once." 

When  folks  go  abroad,  they  must  have  a  guide 
book  and  a  bottle  of  quinine.  The  book  has  many 
foreign  phrases  that  are  used  by  tourists  to  give 
the  impression  of  scholarship  and  learning.  I  heard 
many  using  these  things  and  felt  lost  without  them 
so  I  got  a  book  to  find  some.  I  was  reading  about 
the  retinue  and  pompous  pedigree  of  the  Duke  of 
Luxumberg  when  a  dude  walked  by.  Like  all  English 
Americans  and  Irish,  I  have  a  deal  of  prejudice  in  my 
blood.  Some  things  and  folks  I  do  not  like.  The 
reason  why  I  cannot  always  tell,  but  this  I  know 
and  know  full  well,  I  do  not  like  you  Isabel.  I  do 
not  like  dudes  and  poodle  dogs.  I  like  most  all  other 
dogs — both  human  and  canine — especially  hounds 
and  pointers,  but  don't  like  dudes  and  poodles.  I 
do  not  know  just  why  I  class  them  together  but 
since  I  think  of  it,  I  let  them  stay  there. 

This  dude  wore  a  monocle  over  one  eye  and  noth- 
ing over  the  other.  The  reason  they  do  this  is  they 
can  see  more  with  one  eye  than  they  have  sense 
enough  to  understand,  and  they  need  not  use  the 
other  eye.  As  he  passed  a  lady  asked  me  who  the 
distinguished  looking  gentleman  was.  I  swelled  up 
like  the  Professor  of  Bontology  in  Boston  Univer- 
sity and  said  in  a  voice  Ike  a  bishop — 

"He  looks  like  he  might  be  Duke  Von  Sternberg 
of  Luxumberg." 

I  did  not  say  he  was  it,  but  said  he  looked  like 
he  may  be  it,  and  he  did  for  he  looked  like  he  might 


34  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

be  most  anything.  A  girl  heard  me  say  that  and 
spread  it  over  the  boat  that  he  was  Duke  Von  Stern- 
berg of  Luxumberg.  The  next  time  I  saw  the  duke 
he  had  a  lady  on  each  arm  and  for  the  rest  of  the 
trip  was  the  most  popular  man  on  board.  In  those 
pre-war  days,  a  duke  and  a  pedigreed  European 
nut  stood  higher  than  they  do  now. 

Sitting  near  us  was  a  German  girl  bright  and 
sunny,  who  had  a  good  English  tongue.  She  helped 
us  as  an  interpreter.  Her  name  was  Miss  Maria 
and  the  second  name  was  as  long  as  a  broom  and 
had  the  sound  of  Limberger  and  Garlic.  I  asked 
her  one  day  who  that  fellow  was  and  her  eyes 
shone  as  she  replied  with  animation, 

"Why,  he  is  Duke  Von  Sternberg  of  Luxumberg." 

"No,"  I  said,  "He  isn't  that.  I  don't  know  what 
he  is  but  that  girl  at  the  post  with  a  brown  cloak 
knows  him  from  the  way  she  talks  to  him.  Go  and 
find  out  who  he  is." 

Of  course  if  you  send  a  woman  off  on  a  trail  like 
that,  she  will  tree  something  before  night,  and  in 
a  few  minutes  Miss  Marie  returned,  smiling,  saying 
she  she  had  his  number  in  the  phone  book.  His 
name  was  Isaac  Ernstine.  He  was  a  German  Jew 
who  had  been  in  the  fruit  business  in  New  York 
and  was  on  his  way  home  to  see  his  mother. 

Having  journeyed  over  forty  thousand  miles,  min- 
gling with  people  of  many  tongues,  we  found  no 
difficulty  in  talking  with  foreigners  on  their  native 
heath  in  their  own  language.  There  is  but  one  rule 
to  remember.  Make  a  fuss  in  your  goozle  like  you 
gargle  your  throat  for  tonsilitis  and  then  make  signs 


TRAVELS  IN   THE  OLD  WORLD  35 

to  express  your  meaning.  I  will  never  believe  ail 
the  pig  grunting,  goose  quacking  sputtering,  I  heard 
in  foreign  lands  is  language.  We  are  the  only  folks 
who  have  a  language.  They  just  jabber  and  make 
signs. 

Sitting  near  us  on  the  deck  was  a  woman  of 
leisure  and  means,  who  was  traveling  the  world  over. 
She  had  just  returned  from  China  where  in  the  port 
of  Hong  Kong,  she  purchased  a  Pomereen  pup.  He 
was  the  only  child  she  had  and  he  very  much  re- 
sembled his  mother.  I  have  long  known  the  best  way 
to  win  a  woman's  favor  is  to  notice  her  child  and 
we  paid  attention  to  the  pup.  Bro.  Williams  tried 
to  ask  her  if  the  pup  would  bite  but  she  could  not 
understand  what  "bite"  meant.  He  put  his  finger 
toward  his  lips  and  then  toward  the  pup's  mouth  to 
try  to  ask  her  in  the  sign  language  if  the  dog  would 
bite,  and  suddenly  the  light  of  understanding  flooded 
her  face.  She  thought  he  wanted  to  kiss  the  pup 
and  she  put  the  pup's  face  up  towards  his. 

We  landed  in  Germany  and  traveled  this  country. 
Much  could  be  written  about  it,  but  what  is  the  use? 
In  those  days,  the  Kaiser  ruled  in  splendor,  receiv- 
ing about  $6,000,000.  a  year  all  told.  It  is  hard  to 
get  accurate  information  from  the  place  where  that 
arch  fiend  of  the  human  race  hides  behind  the  skirts 
of  the  Queen  of  Holland  whither  he  fled  in  beastly 
cowardice — to  keep  the  hands  of  an  outraged  world 
from  getting  him  by  his  devilish  throat  and  bringing 
him  out  to  the  justice  his  bloody  crimes  against 
God  as  well  as  men,  women  and  little  children — de- 


36  TRAVELS  IN   THE  OLD  WORLD 

serve — but  it  is  safe  to  say  his  salary  has  been  con- 
siderably reduced  since  that  day. 

But  the  Hohenzollerns  have  fallen  and  their  glory 
departed.  The  storm  has  swept  proud  monarchs 
from  their  gilded  thrones;  crowns  corrode  in  the 
dirt ;  moths  eat  the  ermine ;  the  blood  of  the  Roman- 
offs stain  Siberian  snows,  while  Charles  of  Austria 
dies  in  lonely  exile.  Ah !  The  strange  new  day  that 
has  dawned!  The  civilization  of  Europe,  we  saw 
in  1914  has  crumbled  to  the  ground,  and  men  work 
desperately  to  build  again  in  the  wreckage  that  was 
wrought. 

A  COLLISION  AT  SEA. 

Today  there  is  little  that  modern  ocean  boats 
need  dread.  Mortals  are  safer  on  the  sea  than  try- 
ing to  dodge  automobiles  in  Richmond  for  now  we 
are  all  divided  into  two  classes,  the  quick,  who  get 
out  of  the  way,  and  the  dead  who  do  not.  Those 
majestic  ocean  liners  defy  the  raging  winds  and 
dashing  storm,  as  they  ride  the  rolling  waves  un- 
afraid. Seldom  does  one  perish  in  a  storm.  Bar- 
ring the  devilish  submarine — the  most  fiendish  in- 
vention ever  made,  save  mustard  gas  and  liquid  fire 
— there  is  but  one  thing  that  is  dangerous.  It  is 
when  fog  comes  dark  and  heavy  on  the  water  that 
danger  is  near. 

Going  the  northern  road,  we  come  near  the  ice 
zone  and  the  fog  comes  down  upon  us.  It  was  not 
far  from  where  the  Titanic  made  her  deadly  plunge 
to  her  watery  grave  and  shocked  the  world,  and  it 
was  not  long  after  that  awful  tragedy.    We  went 


TRAVELS   IN   THE  OLD  WORLD  37 

to  our  beds  listening  to  the  fog  horns  every  five 
minutes.  You  think  you  wouldn't  sleep,  but  you 
would  for  the  great  good  God  has  put  something 
in  the  roll  of  the  ocean's  wave  that  is  like  your 
mother's  hand  on  the  cradle  of  your  childhood,  and 
he  has  put  something  in  the  moan  of  ocean  wind 
that  is  like  her  lullabies  in  your  tired  ears.  It  lulls 
you  to  sleep.  In  after  months  men  slept  like  babes 
when  the  sea  was  full  of  death  and  they  never  knew 
as  they  laid  down  at  night  whether  they  would  be 
on  the  boat  or  in  eternity  in  the  morning.  About 
2  A.  M.  June  13,  1914 — and  it  was  on  Friday — I 
was  hurled  from  sweet  repose  in  my  upper  berth 
to  the  floor  and  as  I  crossed  the  great  divide  out  of 
the  other  world  where  we  sleep  into  this  world 
where  we  are  awake,  I  heard  a  sound  such  as  I 
never  heard  before  and  I  pray  God,  I  will  never  hear 
again.  It  was  the  smashing  of  timbers  and  the 
grating  of  iron,  mingled  with  the  crying  of  the 
women  and  children  and  the  hurrying  of  the  officers. 
The  boat  shook  and  quivered  and  felt  as  if  she  was 
going  head  first  to  the  bottom  of  the  deep.  In  after 
months  when  Germans  torpedoed  helpless  boats 
and  the  white  faces  of  the  women  and  little  children 
looked  up  at  the  stars  as  the  swelling  floods  of  death 
rushed  on  them,  I  could  hear  their  cries — Oh  that 
cry  of  the  women  and  the  children  in  a  sinking 
ship  in  the  dark.  Then  came  the  voice  of  the  officer — 

"Collision !  All  passengers  on  board  with  life  pre- 
servers on." 

Fixing  our  life  belts,  we  climbed  to  the  outer  deck 
and  looked  out  in  the  dark  to  the  dim  decks  of  the 


38  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

New  York  of  the  American  Line  inward  bound.  A 
hole  was  torn  in  her  side  just  above  the  water  35 
ft.  x  4 — The  hole  in  our  boat  was  10  x  4.  Both 
were  just  above  the  water  and  after  ours  was  re- 
paired, we  proceeded. 

During  the  war,  I  met  a  man  who  was  on  the 
New  York.  He  was  mail  clerk,  and  he  told  how  he 
prayed  as  he  had  never  prayed  before  and  said  he 
well  remembered  how  they  sang,  "Nearer  My  God 
to  Thee,"  as  they  thought  the  boat  was  going  down. 

Looking  back,  there  comes  a  sweet  remembrance 
of  the  beautiful  hymn  and  its  prayer  that  was  gently 
hummed  and  ever  since  it  has  been  sweeter  than 
before, 

"Jesus  Saviour  Pilot  Me 

Over  Life's  Tempestuous  Sea." 


CHAPTER  IV. 

through    austria-hungary    and    the    balkan 
States. 

June  28,  1914. 

For  a  long  time  we  will  not  forget  that  fifteen 
hundred  miles  from  Dresden,  Germany,  through 
Southern  Europe  to  Constantinople.  We  were  on 
the  train,  the  Continental  Express,  which  is  a  good 
train,  for  two  days  and  nights.  Our  party  num- 
bered fifty  and  we  were  unable  to  secure  but  twelve 
berths  in  the  sleeper.  We  adopted  a  rule  that  only 
the  older  ladies  would  be  entitled  to  sleep,  and  never 
in  my  life  have  I  seen  ladies  age  so  rapidly.  We 
finally  modified  the  rule  by  allowing  men  who  were 
both  old  and  infirm  a  few  hours  in  bed.  The  rest 
of  us  sat  up  with  the  corpse. 

And  well  we  might  sit  up  for  there  was  no 
sleep  on  that  trip.  We  were  passing  through 
countries,  recently  shaken  by  war,  with  battle- 
fields much  in  evidence,  while  seething,  surg- 
ing all  about  us  the  caldron  of  the  nations  was 
about  ready  to  boil  over  again.  It  seems  a  shame 
that  a  section  of  the  world  so  rich  in  possibilities, 
wide  and  fertile  fields,  hills  heavy  laden  with  bound- 
less ore,  should  be  settled  by  a  people  so  restless 
and  so  turbulent.  Such  a  nervous  condition  would 
be  hard  to  equal.  Soldiers  and  guards  were  every- 
where. We  had  to  snatch  a  little  nap  beside  a  sol- 
dier whose  form  was  decked  with  guns  and  swords 
and  whose  eye  watched  your  movements.    At  every 


40  TRAVELS   IN   THE  OLD  WORLD  ^      . 

little  thing  he  would  start  and  his  hand  would  seek 
his  gun. 

At  every  turn  guards  and  officials  of  vicious 
mein  and  piercing  eye  came  stalking  through 
the  train  in  gaudy  uniform  and  clanking  steel. 
They  overhauled  us,  scrutinized  us,  looked  at 
our  passports,  fumbled  through  our  baggage,  ex- 
amined our  eyes  and  talked  to  one  another  about  us 
in  words  we  could  not  understand.  They  gesticu- 
lated over  us  and  made  many  signs  and  motions. 
They  looked  through  the  car  to  see  if  we  had  any- 
thing concealed.  They  would  leave  us  for  a  while 
and  go  off  only  to  return  presently  with  others  more 
vicious  looking  than  the  first  and  men  of  higher 
rank  who  wore  more  things  on  their  bodies  and 
carried  longer  swords.  Again  they  would  gather 
about  us,  jabber,  and  motion,  looking  first  at  us 
and  then  at  one  another.  At  every  station  crowds 
of  soldiers  and  citizens  of  every  kind  and  shape  and 
style  would  gather  about  the  car  windows  looking 
in  and  likewise  talking  about  us,  expressing  their 
opinions  of  us  in  a  language  like  the  barn  yard. 
Often  they  would  bring  their  friends  to  peer  at  us 
and  say  what  they  thought  about  us.  Sometimes 
we  dozed  from  sheer  exhaustion  soon  to  be  aroused 
by  approach  of  armed  guards  and  heathen  hands 
upon  us  and  we  started  over  the  routine  we  had 
dropped  but  a  while  ago. 

Since  then  I  have  had  sympathy  for  a  monkey  at 
a  zoo  gazed  at  by  the  crowd.  I  have  been  one  my- 
self. 


TRAVELS  IN  THE  OLD  WORLD         41 

One  night  at  two  o'clock  they  stopped  the 
train  and  examined  the  wheels.  We  learned 
they  proposed  to  put  off  our  car  and  leave  us 
with  it  in  the  heart  of  the  Balkan  mountains 
for  there  was  no  room  in  the  rest  of  the  train 
for  us.  We  pleaded  but  it  did  no  good.  The  leader, 
being  inspired  by  a  Methodist  impulse  to  get  out 
of  a  tight  place  by  taking  a  collection,  raised  a  few 
dollars  and  handed  it  over  to  the  heathen.  They 
smiled,  and  after  examining  the  wheels  again,  re- 
ported that  three  more  francs  would  make  the  train 
in  condition  to  travel.  They  got  the  money  and  we 
went  on.  After  that  when  language  failed  us  and 
our  country's  flag  was  of  no  avail,  we  passed  the 
hat  and  money  talked  us  through.  After  all,  there 
is  no  language  like  that  of  silver  and  gold. 

We  passed  through  the  town  in  which  the  Aus- 
trian prince  and  his  wife  were  murdered  the  very 
day  of  the  crime.  Little  did  we  think  what  a  great 
matter  a  little  fire  would  kindle.  But  the  fire  was 
already  there  and  it  took  only  that  to  fan  the  flame. 
From  what  we  heard  of  the  man  we  do  not  think 
he  was  worth  what  he  has  cost  the  world. 

During  this  trip  we  had  tme  to  stop  for  a  short 
visit  to  Vienna  and  Budapest.  We  found  these 
cities  far  more  beautiful  and  attractive  than  we 
had  expected.  Vienna  is  called  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  cities  of  the  world,  and  it  sustained  its 
reputation.  The  capitol  and  royal  buildings  were 
indeed  attractive.  Many  of  the  people  made  a  fine 
appearance,  some  of  the  women  being  the  most 
beautiful  we  saw.     Constantly  we  observed  ever 


42  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

changing  costumes,  both  of  men  and  women,  but 
none  were  more  marked  than  those  of  the  young 
ladies  at  Budapest.  Their  feet  were  bare  and  their 
skirts  reached  their  knees.  Such  skirts  we  never 
saw  before.  Some  of  them  were  twenty-five  feet 
around  and  they  wore  many  skirts  one  over  an- 
other. They  were  of  various  shades  all  ruffled  and 
arranged  so  when  they  walked  it  looked  like  the 
whirl  of  the  rain  bow.  Some  of  them  must  have 
had  on  two  dozen  skirts.  The  social  rank  of  a  lady 
is  shown  by  the  number  of  her  skirts  and  on  that 
count  I  think  we  butted  into  an  international  ball 
of  the  royal  swells. 

We  were  greatly  impressed  with  the  names  of 
some  of  the  people  and  the  places  of  these  countries. 
I  copied  in  my  note  book  some  of  the  merchants. 
It  may  be  in  order  to  recommend  to  the  mothers 
who  read  these  lines  the  advisability  of  keeping 
their  children  out  of  mischief  by  having  them  pro- 
nounce these  names.  These  are  #ome  of  them, 
noted  citizens  of  Vienna  and  Budapest;  Zum  Zuck- 
erlkonig,  I  Mir.  Puperkoniggim,  Mr.  Sc  Tiber  sver- 
sicherungs,  M.  Schrierbmosher,  T.  Schrunmachier- 
meister,  C.  Wasserlolanger,  T.  Sputuosenschonk,  Z. 
Vizzygyintzete,  V.  Cyogykisyeltetnek,  A.  Zcegtulo- 
jdonos,  M.  Meghoditotiuk,  S.  Arczfinomitoers,  and 
Zim  Zuckerbuckeri.  How  would  ou  like  to  do  busi- 
ness with  men  of  such  names  in  the  rush  of  this 
fast  day?  How  would  you  like  to  be  secretary  of 
a  Conference  over  there  and  try  to  call  the  roll?  I 
met  some  of  these  gentlemen  and  when  I  introduced 
them  I  said,  Allow  me  to  present  Mr,"  and  then 


TRAVELS  IN  THE  OLD  WORLD         43 

I  sneezed.    The  allies  will  have  a  time  taking  places 
and  people  with  such  names  as  these. 

I  dare  say  if  some  of  these  folks  come  to  our  land 
we  Americans  will  treat  them  like  a  certain  section 
of  North  Carolina  once  treated  a  son  of  Italy  who 
came  in  their  midst  to  settle,  with  a  hand  organ,  a 
monkey  and  a  name  as  long  as  the  monkey's  tail. 
Not  being  able  to  call  the  name  with  much  speed 
or  satisfaction,  the  Tar  Heels  called  him  "Old  Man 
Turney"  because  he  turned  the  organ  for  the  monkey 
to  dance  and  Turney  it  had  to  be.  He  raised  a  big 
family  and  the  people  called  them  "The  Turney 
youngens."  In  the  public  school  they  registered  as 
Joe  Turney,  Jim  Turney,  Pete  Turney,  etc.,  and  the 
last  time  I  was  in  the  town  I  heard  Joe  stand  at  the 
window  of  the  post  office  and  ask  if  there  was  any 
mail  for  any  of  the  Turneys.  I  doubt  if  Joe  knows 
that  awful  thing  the  priest  called  his  daddy  back  in 
Sunny  Italy,  when  he  made  the  cross  and  put  the 
holy  water  on  his  head  in  that  far  off  day  before 
North  Carolinans  brought  his  family  through  the 
reformation. 

Through  fertile  valleys,  well  watered  and  rich, 
we  made  our  way  to  the  south.  In  the  valleys  we 
found  it  hot  while  high  up  on  the  peaks  of  the  Bal- 
kans we  saw,  in  mid  summer,  mantles  of  snow.  Our 
hearts  grew  sad  as  all  about  us  we  saw  unnumbered 
hosts  of  men,  women  and  little  children  bereft  of 
all  that  makes  life  worth  living  in  home  and  human 
society,  subjects  of  a  tyranny  and  despotism  that 
knows  no  bounds,  torn  by  ceaseless  wars  and  in- 
ternal strife,  cursed  by  a  religion  far  worse  than 


44  TRAVELS   IN  THE  OLD  WORLD 

darkest  heathenism.  The  number  of  souls  in  these 
countries  seems  without  number.  Their  lives  are 
pathetic  beyond  the  power  to  tell.  What  could  they 
do  in  this  great  country  with  our  civilization  and 
religion  ? 

Did  ever  a  brighter  day  dawn  for  the  race 
than  when  God  guided  Columbus  to  our  shores? 
Should  any  people  be  more  happy  than  we 
whom  the  Lord  has  so  richly  blessed  and  so  ten- 
derly cared  for?  These  nights  about  our  firesides 
with  our  loved  ones,  surrounded  by  peace  and 
heaven's  blessings  of  a  Christian  home  and  the  gos- 
pel of  Jesus  as  we  think  of  the  horrors  of  war, 
famine,  pestilence,  superstition,  heathenism  and 
sin  that  sweep  the  hills  of  Europe  and  Asia,  let  us 
kneel  and  thank  our  God  for  our  lot.  It  required 
an  effort  to  keep  the  troubles  of  these  souls  from 
taking  the  pleasure  out  of  our  trip. 


CHAPTER  V. 

AMONG  THE  TURKS. 

The  sun  was  rising  from  over  the  cliffs  of  Asiatic 
Turkey  and  flooding  the  blue  waters  of  the  Bos- 
porus with  a  bright  and  welcome  light  as  our  train 
came  into  the  station  of  Constantinople.  A  strange 
feeling  came  to  us  as  we  realized  where  we  were. 
This  great  old  city,  capital  of  the  Ottoman  Empire 
and  one  time  capital  of  the  world  lay  about  us, 
teeming  with  its  more  than  a  million  souls.  The 
uncanny  and  treacherous  looking  Turks  moving  in 
every  direction  about  us,  strange,  varied  and  hide- 
ous costumes,  seas  of  bobbing  red  fezs,  create  an 
atmosphere  heavy  with  history  and  many  odors, 
when  you  enter  this  land  of  prejudice,  passion  and 
darkness.  If  you  were  to  travel  the  world  over  you 
would  not  feel  just  like  you  do  in  Turkey. 

We  had  often  heard  Constantinople  was  the  most 
charming  city  of  the  earth  from  a  distance  but  the 
dirtiest  and  most  repulsive  when  you  were  within 
its  gates.  We  were  not  there  long  when  we  found 
it  even  so.  As  we  beheld  the  city  that  morning  in 
the  golden  light  of  the  southern  sun,  with  its  houses 
stretching  for  a  great  distance  along  the  front  of 
the  beautiful  Bosporus  whose  'waves  lapped  the 
steps,  it  looked  like  a  necklace  of  pearls  about  a 
fair  lady's  neck,  but  once  beyond  the  border  and 
into  the  city  of  the  Turks,  we  felt  we  were  in  the 
garbage  can  of  creation  with  Judge  Taft  sitting  on 
the  lid. 


46  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  „      . 

The  Bosporus  is  a  wonderful  body  of  water,  very 
narrow,  separating  the  continents  of  Europe  and 
Asia,  connecting  the  Black  Sea  up  near  Eussia  with 
the  Sea  of  Marmora.  It  is  twenty  miles  long.  Along 
its  European  shore  almost  to  the  Black  Sea  are  rows 
of  beautiful  houses  intermixed  with  luxuriant  gar- 
dens and  old  towers  from  the  time  of  Constantine. 
Within  these  walls  men,  women  and  little  children 
have  often  paid  the  price  of  being  Christian  with 
the  warm  blood  of  their  loyal  hearts. 

On  this  shore  is  the  palace  of  the  old  Sultan 
where,  with  his  many  wives  he  lived  in  splendor  and 
shame,  drawing  a  salary  of  sixty  million  dollars 
a  year  from  the  brawn  and  blood  of  his  ignorant, 
suffering  subjects.  Out  there  in  the  Bosporus  old 
Abdul  Hamid  used  to  sink  a  wife  now  and  then 
with  a  rock  tied  to  her  neck  like  an  undesirable 
cat  because  he  tired  of  her.  He  would  watch  from 
the  porch  of  his  mansion  while  the  boatman  took 
the  unfortunate  woman  out  upon  the  moonlit  water. 
When  the  old  fiend  was  ready  he  would  raise  a  light 
and  at  that  signal  the  boatman  would  drop  his 
charge  into  the  water,  while  the  Sultan  in  his  palace, 
would  smilingly  go  on  his  Satanic  way.  The  rising 
of  the  young  Turks  banished  old  Abdul  a  few  years 
ago.  When  he  left  he  sold  some  of  his  wives  to  settle 
a  few  debts ;  others  he  gave  as  presents  to  his  friends 
while  to  his  island  of  exile  he  carried  the  four  that 
remained  after  he  had  in  a  fit  of  jealous  rage  mur- 
dered the  youngest  and  fairest  of  them  at  all. 

Sixty  million  dollars  a  year  this  old  fiend  received 
for  the  place  he  held  among  the  rulers  of  the  earth 


TRAVELS   IN   THE  OLD  WORLD  47 

so  long.  He  was  the  highest  paid  sovereign  of  the 
world;  His  pay  being  five  million  dollars  a  month, 
four  hundred  thousand  dollars  a  day ! — nearly  three 
hundred  dollars  a  minute!  When  the  President  of 
the  United  States  received  one  dollar  old  Abdul 
Hamid  got  six  hundred,  and  then  had  to  give  some 
of  his  wives  to  pay  his  debts.  He  must  not  have 
been  wise  in  his  expenditures.  But  his  day  is  done. 
On  his  little  island  he  is  waiting  the  time  when  his 
blackened  soul  will  be  consigned  to  the  lowest  depths 
of  an  orthodox  hell.  The  above  facts  were  told  us 
and  vouched  for  by  prominent  Turkish  officials  we 
met. 

The  Bosporus  has  made  much  history  along  its 
shores.  Many  Christian  martyrs  were  faithful  unto 
death  beside  its  waters.  Here  Xerxes  undertook  to 
build  a  bridge  and  cross  from  Asia  into  Europe  on 
a  mission  of  conquest.  The  sea  became  rough  and 
tore  his  bridge  away,  whereupon  he  had  the  build- 
ers killed  and  ordered  the  waters  lashed  for  their 
bad  behavior,  showing  what  a  fool  he  was.  Here 
Xenophon  crossed  on  a  pontoon  bridge  with  ten 
thousand  men,  as  many  youngsters  have  tried  to 
translate  from  that  Greek  book  he  wrote,  as  in 
sweat  and  toil  they  expended  more  strength  than 
did  old  Xenophon  in  doing  the  deeds  they  tried  to 
read  about.  Here  Jason  came  in  1400  B.  C,  rejoic- 
ing with  the  Golden  Fleece. 

The  Golden  Horn  is  the  bay  running  from  the 
Bosporus  and  the  Sea  of  Marmora  where  they  meet, 
back  into  the  city.  It  gets  its  name  because  of  its 
horn  shape,  being  large  at  its  mouth  and  curving 


48  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

to  a  point  like  a  horn  back  into  the  heart  of  the  city. 
The  sun  shining  upon  its  waters  gives  it  the  name 
"Golden  Horn."  Also  its  name  comes  because  it 
is  the  meeting  place  of  the  nations  on  the  highway 
of  the  seas  and  into  its  horn-shaped  mouth  the  na- 
tions of  the  earth  pour  their  golden  treasures.  When 
the  power  of  the  Turk  is  broken  and  civilized 
nations  get  this  country  it  will  indeed  be  the  Gol- 
den Horn  and  the  greatest  harbor  of  the  earth. 
A  brdge  crosses  the  Golden  Horn  connecting  Stam- 
boul,  the  old  section  of  the  city,  with  the  new  city. 
Over  this  brdge  daily  moves  the  greatest  mixture 
of  mortality  the  world  can  show  you.  Every  class 
and  clan,  creed  and  crowd,  color  and  costume  pass 
before  you.  It  is  interesting  to  watch  as  far  as 
your  eyes  can  see  the  stream  of  red  fezes  with  black 
tassels  mixed  in  the  mass  of  other  things.  This 
is  a  toll  bridge  and  yields  a  tremendous  revenue 
to  the  government. 

It  is  impossible  to  realize  the  living  conditions  of 
Constantinople.  It  must  be  seen  to  be  understood. 
The  poverty,  filth  and  degradaton  is  beyond  the 
telling  of  tongues.  The  streets  are  full  of  filth. 
Thousands  of  dirty  dogs  are  sleeping  on  the  side- 
walks or  lazily  pursuing  their  canine  way  as  though 
they  owned  the  town.  In  returning  to  our  hotel 
one  day  we  counted  ninety-nine  dogs  in  a  few  blocks, 
and  as  we  started  in  the  door  the  hundredth  one 
trotted  by.  These  dogs  are  full  of  fleas  and  are 
very  generous  in  distributing  them.  A  Turkish  of- 
ficial informed  us  that  when  the  young  Turks  came 
into  power,  among  other  reforms  they  had  a  dog 


■Pit    *        '                  J 

1                   •:   1 

i 

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i  J 

■/  * !  '■,;•.  *k 

W'4 

it 

<< 

S  i     -A 

■8 


II 

■"  ft 


*S    o 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  49> 

killing  and  dispatched  thirty  thousand  canines  to 
the  "happy  prowling  ground"  in  one  day.  He  also 
added  with  a  smile  that  sausage  was  cheap  the  next 
week.  There  certainly  must  have  been  a  few  dogs 
in  town  before  the  killing  time.  These  dogs  belong 
to  nobody.  They  are  looked  upon  as  sacred  ani- 
mals and  are  reverenced  and  protected.  They  are 
called  the  Sultan's  street  cleaners  and  perhaps  to 
them  is  due  some  credit  for  keeping  down  some  of 
the  filth  that  might  otherwise  entirely  destroy  the 
people. 

The  town  is  full  of  beggars,  dirty  and  ragged 
to  a  degree  beyond  description.  Donkeys,  camels 
and  goats  are  everywhere  in  sight.  The  streets 
are  full  of  venders  of  every  class  and  kind,  calling, 
crying,  moaning  out  their  wares.  All  these  strange 
weird  sounds  pouring  into  your  ears  in  the  early 
morning  when  you  awake  make  you  feel  you  are 
surely  in  a  strange  land. 

One  very  noticeable  thing  through  all  the  Tur- 
kish realm  is  the  burdens  the  people  bear.  Instead 
of  having  drays  for  hauling,  the  people  become  the 
beasts  of  burden.  Men,  women  and  children  are 
seen  carrying  loads  on  their  heads  and  backs  that 
it  seems  impossible  to  carry,  and  it  seems  only  ex- 
aggeration to  tell  it.  When  we  landed  men  carried 
our  suit  cases  to  the  hotels.  They  were  big  double 
suit  cases  and  certainly  some  of  the  women  had 
theirs  full.  I  could  carry  mine  but  a  little  way. 
These  men  strapped  seven  and  eight  of  these  heavy 
cases  on  their  backs  and  went  several  blocks  to  the 
hotel  with  them.    Constantly  this  stream    of  burden 


50  TRAVELS   IN   THE  OLD   WORLD 

bearers  goes  by  you — men  with  loads  of  lumber, 
rocks,  trunks,  barrels  of  vegetables  and  every  con- 
ceivable kind  of  burden;  women  with  loads  little 
lighter;  children  heavy  laden,  the  stream  goes  on. 

Often  did  we  think  of  that  beautiful  verse  of 
the  Master's  we  had  told  to  many  troubled  hearts, 
"Come  unto  me  all  ye  that  labor  and  are  heavy 
laden  and  I  will  give  you  rest."  But  Jesus  has  not 
yet  had  the  chance  to  lift  the  burdens  from  the 
bodies  or  the  souls  of  Turkey's  millions.  It  seems 
strange  it  has  never  occurred  to  them  to  harness 
their  donkeys  and  haul  these  burdens  instead  of 
carrying  them.  As  they  have  done  through  cen- 
turies they  go  on  with  pack  saddles  on  their  backs 
and  heavier  loads  on  their  souls. 

Gne  of  the  most  interesting  objects  to  the  tourist 
is  the  mosque  of  St.  Sophia.  It  is  imposing  and 
beautiful,  but  its  interor  decorations  are  rather 
gaudy.  This  building,  now  the  most  noted  Turkish 
temple  of  the  city,  was  a  Christian  church  built  by 
Emperor  Justian  who  cried  when  it  was  complete, 
"0  Solomon,  I  have  surpassed  thee."  In  the  fif- 
teenth century  it  was  captured  by  the  Turks  and 
turned  into  a  Mohammedan  Mosque.  A  hundred 
thousand  christians  fled  to  this  their  place  of  wor- 
ship for  refuge  when  Mohammed  rode  triumphant 
into  the  city.  He  charged  upon  them  and  many 
thousand  of  them  were  killed.  Over  their  dead 
bodies  he  rode  his  horse  into  the  building  and 
striking  his  hand-dripping  red  with  the  blood  of 
the  Christians  he  had  murdered  upon  the  side  of 
the  wall,  he  cried,  "There  is  no  God  but  Allah  and 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  51 

Mohammed  is  his  prophet."  For  hundreds  of  years 
millions  of  deluded  mortals  have  sent  on  that  cry- 
echoing  over  their  deeds  of  blood  and  shame. 

We  were  shown  the  bloody  print  of  Mohammed's 
hand  upon  the  wall.  We  were  not  supposed  to  notice 
the  print  was  so  high  on  the  wall  that  a  man  would 
have  to  sit  on  the  head  of  a  giraffe  to  reach  it  and 
that  the  hand  was  no  larger  than  that  of  a  very 
small  child.  We  were  also  shown  the  holy  carpet  and 
the  prayer  rugs  which  are  carried  on  long  and  ardu- 
ous pilgrimages  to  Mecca,  where,  by  touching  the 
grave  of  Mohammed  they  received  the  magic  power 
to  heal  and  save  all  who  kneel  upon  them  for  months 
following.  We  also  looked  upon  the  precious  Mecca 
stone  which  fell  down  from  heaven  to  Mohammed. 
To  touch  this  stone  and  rub  your  finger  on  any  dis- 
eased part  of  your  body  will  surely  work  a  cure.  The 
constant  rubbing  of  a  ceaseless  stream  of  super- 
stitious fingers  for  five  hundred  years  has  worn 
great  grooves  in  the  stone. 

Many  pigeons — sacred  birds — were  roosting  and 
nesting  in  the  temple.  Many  of  them  were  very 
busy  tearing  up  the  sacred  carpets  to  get  material 
for  their  nests.  A  number  of  boys  sat  on  the  floor 
crooning  out  their  lessons  from  the  Koran  in  weird 
sounds  that  made  a  cold  shiver  steal  up  your  back. 
Numbers  of  dirty,  ragged  Turks  moved  carpets  to 
different  places,  unrolled  them  and  fixed  them  for 
services  we  could  not  understand.  In  the  midst  of 
their  work  they  wrestled,  played  leap  frog  and  rode 
about  on  one  another's  backs,  notwithstanding  the 
place  was  very  sacred  and  we  poor  Christian  dogs 


52  TRAVELS   IN   THE  OLD  WORLD 

had  to  wear  their  holy  dirty  slippers  about  the  tem- 
ple while  they  followed  to  see  that  our  unhallowed 
heels  touched  not  the  sacred  carpets. 

Just  to  see  what  would  happen  I  quietly  slipped 
my  foot  from  the  slipper  ^nd  went  on  without 
it,  to  be  followed  post  haste  by  several  outraged 
keepers  of  the  temple  who  jabbered,  sputtered,  har- 
angued and  spit  at  me  in  great  excitement,  punctu- 
ating their  deliverances  with  a  multitude  of  gym- 
nastic exercises  as  they  told  me  how  I  had  insulted 
the  holy  name  of  Mohammed.  I  quietly  raised  my 
foot  for  them  to  tie  on  another  slipper  and  went  on 
my  way,  through  the  midst  of  temple  beggars  and 
men  prostrate  in  prayers,  who,  with  one  eye  on 
Allah,  kept  the  other  treacherous,  gleaming  orb 
fixed  on  us  in  a  way  to  make  us  feel  how  readily 
the  Turks  can  mix  religion  and  other  things.  Thus 
passed  our  first  visit  to  a  pagan  house  of  worship. 
The  feeling  that  sweeps  down  on  your  soul  on  such 
a  visit  your  tongue  can't  tell.  How  far  away  from 
God  religion  so  often  is! 

In  the  Royal  Museum  we  saw  many  things  of  in- 
terest recently  brought  to  light  by  British  and  Ger- 
man excavators.  Among  them  was  the  skeleton  of 
the  king  of  Tyre  ( ?)  with  a  hole  in  his  head  made 
by  the  work  of  the  murderous  axe ;  bracelets,  breast 
pins  and  many  other  articles  of  dress  and  ornament 
said  to  be  3,000  years  B.  C.,  a  beautiful  sculptured 
sarcophagus  with  many  figures  of  weeping  women, 
no  two  of  them  in  the  same  position,  an  elegant 
sarcophagus  of  Alexander  the  Great.  But  the  most 
interesting  thing  was  a  gold  spoon  the  Sultan  al- 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD  WORLD  53 

ways  takes  with  him  on  his  annual  pilgrimage  to 
Mecca.  As  he  comes  in  contact  with  the  masses  he 
is  liable  to  find  upon  his  body  some  of  the  multiplied 
millions  of  vermin  that  go  with  the  worshippers. 
These  insects  being  sacred  animals  even  the  Sultan 
is  not  allowed  to  remove  them  with  his  hands  but 
must  use  this  gold  spoon  for  the  purpose.  What  the 
common  folks  do  who  cannot  afford  gold  spoons  for 
such  work,  we  were  not  told.  Perhaps  the  Sultan 
passes  the  spoon  around  or  more  likely  the  masses 
consider  a  great  honor  to  furnish  hospitality  to  these 
sacred  animals  and  go  their  way  rejoicing  with 
them.  We  were  not  so  pious  on  this  score  nor  did 
we  confine  ourselves  to  gold  spoons  in  seeking  relief. 

Constantinople  has  thirty  times  been  destroyed 
by  fire  and  now  it  seems  to  be  a  perfect  fire  trap. 
There  she  sits  full  of  the  heathenism,  ignorance, 
filth  and  shame — with  all  the  odors  of  the  world 
meeting  in  her  streets.  She  occupies  the  greatest 
seat  on  the  highway  of  nations  waiting  for  civilized 
nations  to  redeem  her  people  and  give  them  a  chance. 
Who  can  tell  what  the  future  of  Constantinople  will 
be  when  these  war  clouds  roll  away? 

Some  of  our  party  grew  poetic  and  expressed  their 
feelings  and  impressions  in  verses.  One  after  an- 
other submitted  their  productions.  Some  were  grave 
some  provoked  a  smile.  I  wish  I  had  these  poems 
to  give,  but  none  are  available.  They  called  on 
me  for  a  poem.  I  have  a  poetic  soul,  but  no  poetic 
tongue  or  pen  and  have  never  been  able  to  get  any 
space  with  verse,  but  under  the  spell  of  the  East  I 
thought  I  might  woo  the  muses  sufficiently  to  make 


54  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

some  poetry  since  the  others  were  so  successful.  So 
I  gave  myself  to  the  task.  The  result  was  the  fol- 
lowing lines,  which  I  dedicated  to  my  friend  and 
fellow-traveller,  Rev.  L.  T.  Williams,  because  he 
longed  so  much  for  the  things  at  home,  and  could 
never  relish  old  bread  and  goat  meat. 

0  Turkey,  land  of  ease 
With  all  thy  dogs  and  fleas, 

Of  thee  I  sing. 
Loud  will  thy  donkeys  bray, 
Because  they  need  more  hay 
And  always  in  your  way, 

While  Turkey's  king. 

O  Turkey,  land  of  goats, 
(So  bare  of  pigs  and  shoats) 

And  men  so  slow. 
I'll  soon  eat  biscuits  hot, 
And  coffee  from  my  pot, 
With  ham  I've  not  forgot 

For  now  I  go. 

0  Turkey  'tis  of  thee, 
Thou  land  beside  the  sea, 

Of  thee  I  sing. 
Long  will  this  awful  glare 
Fall  on  thy  hills  so  bare 
Of  which  thy  people  share, 

While  Turkey's  king. 


TRAVELS   IN   THE  OLD   WORLD  55 

0  Turkey,  land  of  death, 
Where  freedom  has  no  breath, 

To  thee  I  bring. 
A  feeling  of  disgust 
Because  thy  souls  are  thrust 
Down  in  this  filth  and  dust, 

While  Turkey's  king. 

0  Turkey,  land  of  doom, 
Where  children  have  no  room 

To  live  and  sing. 
Long  will  these  shadows  fall, 
And  all  thy  hearts  enthrall. 
God  lift  this  heathan  pall, 

And  let  Freedom  ring. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE    MORAL   AND   RELIGIOUS    CONDITION   OF   TURKEY. 

(1914) 

One  of  the  most  prominent  points  in  him  is  his 
lack  of  progress.  He  is  the  original  stand-patter, 
opposed  to  advance  of  every  kind.  He  is  too  lazy 
to  go  forward,  being  the  most  slothful  mortal  you 
can  find.  He  has  never  added  anything  to  the 
world's  constructive  life  but  has  destroyed  all  he 
could  that  others  had  constructed.  As  John  R.  Mott 
has  well  said,  "If  the  Turk  cannot  find  a  desert  he 
will  make  one."  In  his  restful  ease  he  bitterly  re- 
sents all  interference  and  delights  to  stand  or  rather 
sit  where  he  has  been  for  centuries.  He  uses  the 
same  implements  he  has  always  used,  threshing  out 
his  wheat  by  driving  his  cattle  around  it,  plow- 
ing with  his  same  crude  plows,  carrying  his  com- 
merce on  his  head,  his  back  and  the  back  of  his  don- 
key, never  having  looked  with  favor  upon  wheel 
vehicles.  He  has  no  factories  for  he'd  rather  do 
all  his  work  with  his  hands  as  his  fathers  did. 

He  is  also  the  dirt  est  mortal  you  can  find.  Filth  is 
a  part  of  his  being.  He  is  too  lazy  to  be  clean.  To 
be  clean  is  too  much  like  a  Christian  dog  or  a  hated 
Englishman;  therefore  filth  is  a  virtue.  Of  course 
this  is  not  the  case  with  all  of  them  but  it  is  true 
with  many. 

And  he  is  a  fatalist  of  the  deepest  dye.  It  is 
ground  into  his  blood  and  stamped  upon  his  soul. 
Everything  is  worked  out  by  an  unchanging  fate, 
and  it  is  worse  than  useless  to  try  to  put  yourself 
against  it.    Things  are  just  as  they  were  intended  to 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  57 

be.  His  hills  are  full  of  oil  and  ore  but  he  digs 
it  not  for  if  Allah  had  intended  it  to  be  on  top  of 
the  ground  it  would  be  there  and  since  it  is  under 
the  ground  Allah  intended  it  to  remain  there  and 
it  would  be  the  grossest  insult  to  him  to  dig  it  up. 
This  is  the  reason  he  resents  every  approach  of 
western  civilization  that  would  change  the  old  order 
of  things.  It  is  sacrilege  to  try  to  change  the 
things  fate  has  fixed. 

He  is  also  cursed  by  superstition.  It  haunts  him, 
poisons  him,  possesses  him  to  a  degree  seldom  found 
anywhere.  His  religion  and  all  his  makeup  is 
tangled  with  a  web  of  superstition.  He  wears 
charms  on  himself  and  on  his  horses  to  keep  off  the 
"evil  eye,"  believing  there  are  people  so  in  league 
with  evil  spirits  that  when  they  turn  their  eyes  upon 
you  they  bring  a  train  of  evil  with  that  look.  Sev- 
eral times  our  horses  chanced  to  lose  these  awful 
looking  beads  from  their  necks  and  everything  had 
to  wait  until  the  lost  ones  could  be  found  or  new 
ones  secured,  for  it  would  have  been  ruin  to  go  on 
without  them.  A  king  would  not  be  more  distressed 
over  the  loss  of  the  crown  than  was  my  driver  over 
the  loss  of  those  beads  and  no  king  could  say  as 
many  awful  sounding  things  in  the  same  length  of 
time.  They  go  on  long  pilgrimages  to  their  holy 
cities,  Jerusalem,  Mecca,  Modena  and  Hebron  that 
they  may  touch  the  sacred  spots  and  rid  themselves 
of  all  ills  to  body  and  soul  as  well  as  secure  a  pass- 
port to  Everlasting  Blessedness.  Rugs  and  robes 
are  placed  on  these  holy  spots  and  carried  back  that 
their  touch  may  impart  a  magic  power  and  work 


58  TRAVELS    IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

many  wonders.  We  saw  many  of  these  pilgrims 
who  had  gone  through  the  worst  denials  and  priva- 
tions to  save  means  enough  to  take  these  long  and 
arduous  journeys  and  everywhere  we  went  they 
were  our  fellow  travelers. 

The  Turk  is  absolutely  unreliable  and  dishonest. 
Nobody  can  beat  him  lying.  He  seems  to  prefer  a 
lie  to  the  truth.  They  cannot  trust  one  another. 
The  government  has  inspectors  to  such  an  extent 
that  everybody  seems  to  be  watching  everybody 
else.  The  government  and  the  thieves  are  in  league 
or  rather  they  are  one  and  the  same.  If  you  don't 
want  the  robbers  to  bother  you  you  can  pay  the 
government  for  protection  and  the  government  will 
divide  with  the  thieves.  Everybody  is  open  to  bribes 
and  often  this  is  the  only  passport  that  will  get  you 
through.  We  were  charged  an  entrance  fee  of  two 
dollars  each  as  we  entered  Turkey;  another  sum  to 
get  through  the  Balkan  mountains;  another  to  get 
out  of  Constantinople ;  a  medical  fee  to  enter  Alex- 
andria, and  a  fumigation  fee  to  get  out  of  Beirut. 
We  would  not  have  objected  to  paying  the  last  if 
they  had  fumigated  themselves,  but  the  rascals  took 
the  fee  and  fumigated  us.  You  can't  trust  them. 
They  will  rise  from  their  prayers  and  kill  you  if 
they  get  a  chance,  and  they  will  steal  anything  from 
anybody. 

The  Mohammedan  is  on  fire  with  hatred  toward 
all  foreigners,  especially  Christians.  His  Bible  en- 
joins it  upon  him.  His  religion  excites  him  to  holy 
wars  to  exterminate  by  the  bloodiest  methods  all 
who  do  not  believe  as  he  does.    His  country  has  run 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  59 

with  blood  in  many  massacres  and  if  they  do  not 
again  flood  their  hills  with  foreign  blood  it  will  be 
because  they  fear  England  and  America  too  much. 
Their  missionary  propaganda  is  one  of  bloodshed. 
It  was  the  way  their  founder  won  his  victories.  It 
is  their  future  hope,  and  woe  to  the  foreigners  who 
fall  into  their  hands  when  the  Holy  War  begins. 

They  are  cruel  and  heartless  despots  to  their  own 
people.  The  burdens  their  state  and  church  put 
on  them  is  hard  to  realize.  The  government  sells 
the  tax-gathering  privilege  to  the  highest  bidder. 
He  pays  the  government  whatever  is  agreed  upon 
and  grinds  out  of  the  people  in  the  district  he  covers 
whatever  he  chooses,  the  people  having  no  redress 
whatever.  Often  the  people  have  to  pay  over  fifty 
per  cent,  of  what  they  make  for  tax.  One  day  our 
train  stopped  and  we  saw  a  man  with  a  flock  of 
sheep  and  goats,  about  a  dozen  in  all,  about  two  hun- 
dred yards  from  the  track.  The  trainmen  who  were 
officers  of  the  law,  the  government  owning  the  rail- 
roads, left  the  train  and  had  an  argument  with  the 
shepherd.  They  took  the  finest  lamb  from  the  flock 
and  brought  him  bleating  to  the  train.  We  learned 
from  our  guide  that  they  had  a  law  that  whenever 
a  shepherd  let  his  flock  get  in  a  certain  distance 
from  the  train  (close  enough  for  one  of  the  rascals 
to  steal  a  sheep  I  suppose)  they  took  a  lamb  as  a 
fine.  This  poor  man  was  unable  to  pay  the  price  of 
two  mejidos  ($1.60)  to  redeem  his  lamb  and  the 
trainmen  carried  it  away  for  their  dinner.  This 
was  another  of  their  many  methods  of  robbery.  The 


60  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

fruit  trees  have  been  taxed  until  large  sections  once 
rich  with  fruitage  are  desolate.  It  is  cheaper  to 
have  no  trees  at  all  than  face  the  unmerciful  tax  of 
Turkey  and  the  trees  are  cut  down. 

A  very  marked  trait  of  the  Mohammedan  charac- 
ter is  his  attitude  toward  women.  He  professes 
great  chivalry.  He  has  veiled  the  faces  of  his  wo- 
men. Not  even  her  own  household  can  see  her 
face.  He  has  private  quarters  for  the  women  of  his 
house  even  though  he  lives  in  poor  tents.  And  when 
she  leaves  her  shoes  at  the  tent  door  as  a  sign  that 
she  occupies  her  quarters,  no  man,  no  matter  how 
near,  by  family  ties,  can  go  beyond  those  shoes.  He 
has  been  given  great  credit  for  the  way  he  honors 
women  because  of  these  things,  but  he  deserves  no 
credit  at  all.  He  has  the  most  degraded  opinion  of 
women.  His  bible  teaches  him  she  has  no  soul,  but 
is  merely  a  piece  of  property  below  par  with  his 
sheep  or  his  donkey.  His  religion  allows  him  to 
trade  her  for  anything  he  chooses  when  he  tires  of 
her,  and  his  bible  tells  him  when  she  does  not  please 
him  to  take  her  to  the  tent  where  the  cattle  stay,  the 
place  where  she  belongs,  and  beat  her  until  he  is 
satisfied. 

This  bible  also  tells  him  his  allotted  num- 
ber of  wives  is  four,  but  if  he  really  desires  more 
"God  is  merciful  and  kind."  When  a  girl  baby  is 
born  into  a  home  he  goes  into  a  protracted  spell  of 
mourning;  his  friends  stop  speaking  to  him  and 
often  he  divorces  his  wife  or  sells  her,  all  because 
she  has  become  the  mother  of  a  cursed  girl  instead 
of  a  boy.    A  poor  little  girl  is  born  to  a  life  that  is 


TRAVELS   IN   THE  OLD  WORLD  61 

a  curse.  We  saw  little  girls  from  four  (not  four- 
teen) to  twelve  working  in  the  brass  factory  ham- 
mering out  with  their  little  hands  the  fine  brass 
ornaments  we  prize  so  highly.  We  saw  girls  hardly 
grown  building  the  new  Turkish  railroad  under 
guard  of  armed  soldiers*.  We  saw  hundreds  of 
girls  and  women  carrying  heavy  pitchers  of  several 
gallons,  each  full  of  water,  on  their  heads,  many 
miles  through  the  awful  Syrian  sun.  Often  we 
saw  women  walking,  carrying  children  or  other 
heavy  burdens  on  long  journeys,  while  their  gallant 
husbands  rode  beside  them. 

What  does  the  leaving  the  slippers  at  the  tent 
door  and  the  veiling  of  the  face  amount  to  in  the 
face  of  these  things?  Poor  woman !  She  is  a  brute 
and  a  beast  of  burden.  She  looks  old  and  haggard 
before  she  is  hardly  grown.  What  can  a  people 
amount  to  who  treat  their  women — the  instruments 
of  the  best  and  the  purest  in  the  human  race — 
that  way?  And  after  all,  as  much  as  Christ  has 
done  for  men,  how  much  more  has  He  done  for 
women!  We  feel  this  more  in  foreign  lands  than 
in  our  own.  Our  religion  and  civilization  is  the 
only  one  the  world  has  known  that  has  raised  wo- 
men to  the  place  where  she  belongs. 

The  Turk  is  the  most  religious  person  on  the  earth 
and  yet  the  most  non  religious.  He  prays  five  times 
a  day  and  yet  he  does  not  pray  at  all.  In  Constan- 
tinople alone  he  has  five  hundred  and  fifty  mosque3 
or  churches,  with  many  others  scattered  over  his 
vast  domains.  Five  times  a  day  the  priest  mounts 
the  stairs  to  the  minaret  or  belfry,  comes  out  of  a 


62  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

little  door  upon  a  little  porch  that  extends  all  around 
the  tower  and  sends  out  upon  the  world  his  weird 
call  to  prayer.  He  lifts  up  his  voice  in  this  call  four 
times,  each  time  standing  with  his  face  toward  the 
four  points  of  the  compass.  This  is  perhaps  the 
most  doleful  sound  that  falls  on  the  ear  of  the 
traveler  in  any  land.  At  the  sound  the  Mohamme- 
dan stops  whatever  he  is  doing  and  prostrates  him- 
self in  prayer,  first  turning  his  face  toward  Mecca, 
his  most  holy  city.  He  carefully  spreads  his  rug, 
robe  or  kerchief  upon  the  ground  or  floor  wherever 
he  is.  Sometimes  he  is  hindered  for  lack  of  room. 
He  can't  go  through  his  performances  very  well 
in  crowded  quarters  and  often  if  he  is  on  a  train  at 
the  hour  of  prayer  he  will  wait  until  the  train 
reaches  the  next  station  and  get  on  the  ground  be- 
side the  train  where  with  one  eye  open  on  the  con- 
ductor and  the  other  closed  on  Allah,  he  prays.  It 
takes  him  a  long  time  to  go  through  his  prayer,  and 
the  different  actions,  motions,  postures  and  pros- 
trations he  goes  through  would  run  Father  O'Hooli- 
gan  a  close  race  when  he  grinds  out  pontificial  mass 
over  the  incensed  corpse  of  an  arch  bishop.  One 
reason  the  Turk  takes  so  much  time  to  his  prayers 
is  because  it  gives  his  lazy  nature  a  chance  five  times 
a  day  to  stop  whatever  he  is  doing  and  loll  out  his 
sleepy  devotions.  He  does  not  seem  to  say  anything, 
it  is  all  motions  and  at  times  he  seems  to  be  asleep. 
If  you  are  near  he  watches  you  with  one  treacherous 
eye  while  he  keeps  the  other  closed  to  the  world  and 
when  he  finishes  his  prayers  you  better  keep  both 
eyes  on  him. 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  63 

It  is  hard  to  realize  how  burdened  the  people  are. 
There  are  practically  no  schools  and  the  people  live 
in  an  ignorance  and  degradation  that  is  appalling. 
They  haven't  any  home  life  and  many  of  them  have 
no  homes.  They  live  in  the  fields  until  winter  comes 
and  crowd  in  mud  huts,  dens  in  the  ground  or  any- 
where they  can,  like  rats.  Many  of  them  do  not  get 
enough  out  of  life  to  call  it  living.  They  can  often 
be  seen  going  to  the  shops  with  coins  that  look  like 
tobacco  tags  they  have  begged  from  the  travelers, 
stolen,  worked  for  or  gotten  any  way  they  can. 
Some  of  these  coins  are  worth  as  little  as  one-tenth 
of  a  cent.  They  will  pay  one  or  two  of  these  for.  a 
little  piece  of  dirty  bread,  many  months  old  some- 
times, and  a  handful  of  pumpkin  or  melon  seed  and 
upon  this  make  their  meal. 

Some  one  asks  why  do  they  not  rebel  and  over- 
throw their  accursed  government?  You  might  as 
well  ask  why  does  not  a  team  of  mules  overloaded 
and  abused,  rebel  against  their  master  and  set  up  a 
new  government.  What  can  people  so  completely 
crushed  do  against  the  government  that  oppresses 
them?  They  haven't  strength,  brain  or  spirit  to  do 
anything. 

Thus  southern  Europe,  much  of  it  Asia,  upper 
Africa,  Palestine  and  the  vast  desert  lands  of  Ara- 
bia, have  for  centuries  been  under  the  power  of  the 
Turk.  He  holds  the  most  strategic  part  of  the  earth, 
unequalled  in  fertility,  unbounded  in  commercial 
possibilty,  great  in  historic  value,  and  he  curses  it, 
while  the  civilized  nations,  desiring  to  carve  the 
Turkey  but  in  their  jealous  hunger  for  the  biggest 


64  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

piece  can  not  determine  who  should  wield  the 
knife.  But  the  day  of  the  Turk  is  nearly  done.  His 
crescent  that  has  shone  so  long  over  this  great  part 
of  the  world  in  places  rich  and  holy,  is  waning  in 
the  west.  Faster  and  shorter  grows  the  gasping 
breath  of  the  sick  man.  Soon  it  will  be  hushed ;  he 
will  be  buried  in  the  graveyard  of  Oblivion  and  upon 
his  grave  a  better  civilization  will  spring  to  bless 
the  land  he  cursed  so  long. 

In  simple  justice  it  should  be  said  the  Turk  has 
one  good  trait.  He  will  not  drink  strong  drink.  It 
is  against  his  religion  and  his  law.  Many  times  we 
sat  with  him  at  meals  in  the  midst  of  clinking 
glasses  and  flowing  wine,  but  not  once  did  we  see 
him  touch  it. 

One  of  the  wonders  of  the  human  race  is  how  an 
ignorant  camel  driver  like  Mohammed  could  arise 
with  a  perverted  form  of  the  Christian  religion, 
mixed  with  the  worse  things  of  pagajnism,  and 
gather  about  him  such  a  powerful  dominion  that  has 
blocked  the  march  of  civilization  and  held  sway  in 
a  large  part  of  the  world  for  centuries  until  it  in- 
cludes one-seventh  of  the  people  of  the  earth. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

SOME    INCIDENTS    OP   THE   SECOND   TOUR. 

The  best  way  to  learn  folks  is  to  live  with  them. 
Traveling  with  them  is  the  same  thing  as  long  as 
it  lasts.  When  folks  get  down  on  the  job  of  the 
pilgrim's  path,  they  show  their  good  and  bad  points 
better  than  when  they  ride  their  Supers  out  to  hear 
the  Elder,  all  dressed  in  their  dandy  duds.  It  is 
interesting  to  watch  them  getting  acquainted.  They 
are  much  like  animals.  When  new  dogs  come  into 
a  kennel  or  new  chickens  in  a  yard  everything  halts 
until  they  finish  acquaintance.  It  is  a  delicate  dan- 
gerous time.  If  the  strangers  can  be  carefully 
guided  over  the  rocks  until  they  really  know  and 
understand  one  another,  there  will  be  no  better 
friends,  but  one  slip  will  precipitate  a  fight  that 
will  fill  the  kennel  with  fur,  and  the  yard  with 
feathers.  When  two  strange  dogs  stand  staring 
each  other  in  the  eye  with  tails  erect  and  muscles 
rigid,  you  may  hit  one  of  them  with  a  pebble  and 
produce  a  conflict  that  will  be  heard  in  the  next 
township.  Tourists  are  the  same  way.  Everything 
must  halt  until  they  have  studied  eccentricities,  pe- 
culiarities, defects  and  short  comings  and  finished 
talking  about  themselves  and  their  folks.  If  while 
this  is  in  progress,  the  party  gets  on  the  boat  and  sea- 
sickness comes  the  act  of  becoming  acquainted  is 
greatly  hastened.  There  is  nothing  that  establishes 
such  a  close  point  of  contact  and  intimate  acquain- 
tance as  to  become  sea  sick  together.     When  two 


66  TRAVELS   IN   THE  OLD   WORLD 

strangers  go  through  that  they  are  friends  forever 
after. 

Rudyard  Kipling  says  there  is  a  rocky  hill  on 
the  Road  of  Matrimony  not  far  from  the  marriage 
altar.  It  is  the  time  when  two  strangers  must 
learn  to  fit  into  each  others  lives.  Most  divorce 
wrecks  come  then.  If  they  can  successfully  pass 
this  crisis,  they  nearly  always  live  happily  ever  after. 
The  lot  of  the  traveler  is  somewhat  akin  to  this. 

Out  of  our  party  of  sixteen,  we  had  three  lady 
bachelors,  four  men  bachelors,  two  widowers  and 
seven  preachers.  There  is  no  "spoilt  baby"  in  the 
class  with  a  bachelor  preacher,  who  has  long  had 
kind  sisters  studying  all  his  whims  and  satisfying 
his  every  notion.  He  has  had  everybody  to  give 
in  for  him  and  he  is  never  required  to  give  in  for 
others.  He  needs  a  bit  of  married  life  that  meets 
him  at  the  door  and  demands  he  remove  his  shoes 
before  he  comes  in,  and  he  should  be  required  to 
spend  a  whole  day  shopping  with  a  "lady  boss" 
paying  bills  and  carrying  bundles,  as  he  is  told 
to  do.  Then  he  needs  to  have  her  sit  up  in  the  pre- 
sence of  two  former  school  girl  friends  and  review 
his  peculiarities  ala  matrimony. 

But  back  to  the  track — We  met  in  New  York  two 
days  before  sailing  to  get  all  red  tape  trimmings 
on  and  meet  our  fellow  pilgrims.  Of  course,  you 
are  interested  in  your  room  mate,  will  he  snore  on 
the  Ford  style  or  as  per  the  saw  mill  route?  To 
which  one  of  the  fifty-seven  variety  of  assorted 
nuts  will  he  belong?  What  kind  of  a  hobby  will 
he  ride?     Will  he  be  a  germ  lunny?     Or  will  he 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  67 

have  one  young  son  at  home  who  says  smart  things  ? 
(Perish  the  thought).  Will  he  loll  in  the  shade  of 
his  family  tree,  and  chew  the  rag  of  his  pedigree? 
And  worst  of  all,  will  he — Oh  will  he  think  he  knows 
some  foreign  language  and  try  to  use  it  on  the 
defenceless  foreigners  when  he  gets  there? 

My  room  mate  was  Rev.  E.  R.  Welch,  now  pastor 
of  Chestnut  Ave.  Methodist  Church,  Asheville.  And 
here  and  now,  let  me  say  I  tell  tales  only  on  folks 
I  like  and  love.  The  others  I  let  coolly  alone.  I 
have  been  offered  $25.00  not  to  tell  all  I  know  on 
Welch  and  even  more  to  keep  quiet  on  Williams, 
but  money  can't  bribe  me.  They  are  hereby  per- 
mitted, empowered  and  authorized  to  release  any 
and  all  things  they  can  remember  discover  or  in- 
vent on  me,  but  I  will  not  be  bribed,  blackmailed, 
begged  or  entreated  to  keep  quiet  about  them. 

Welch  is  a  distinguished  scholar  and  preacher. 
He  has  an  inquiring  mind  and  a  genius  for  dis- 
covery. Human  interest  and  human  nature  run 
strong  in  his  make  up,  and  he  is  ever  hunting  a 
point  of  contact.  He  holds  first  International  Prize 
for  gathering  a  wider  assortment  of  curios  than 
any  man  whoever  held  a  passport  in  his  hand.  His 
collection  ranged  from  a  left  hind  foot  of  a  grave- 
yard rabbit  killed  by  a  wild  Arab  in  the  land  of 
Moab  to  the  rib  of  a  departed  Monk,  who  went  to 
purgatory  from  the  banks  of  the  Tiber.  He  brought 
back  a  jug  of  Jordan  water,  which  somebody  sat 
on  and  squashed.  I  shall  never,  oh  Gertrude!  never 
forget  the  night  in  the  London  hotel  when  he  dis- 
covered that  his  jug  was  busted.     I  see  him  now 


68  TRAVELS   IN   THE  OLD   WORLD 

picking  out  3748  pieces  of  glass  from  his  embryonic 
museum  and  spreading  his  things  over  the  room 
to  dry  (His  case  was  waterproof  and  the  water 
soaked  in  the  things  instead  of  running  out).  The 
Smithsonian  Institute  didn't  have  much  on  that  room 
when  his  things  were  spread  out.  He  had  a  cat  fish 
head  from  the  River  Jordan,  rocks  from  Lebanon, 
Switzerland  and  France,  pebbles  from  the  dead  sea, 
sand  from  Sudan,  a  snake  skin  from  Syria,  a  goat 
ear  from  Egypt  and  time  would  fail  me  to  speak 
of  pictures,  scarfs,  beads  and  many  things  not  in 
the  dictionary,  the  custom  men  draw  on  you  in 
New  York.  If  I  had  the  money,  I  would  have  paid 
Welch  $1,000.  for  the  pure  joy  of  watching  the  cus- 
tom men  nose  in  his  conglomeration  of  curios. 

My  room  mate  is  the  first  man  to  install  a  radio 
machine  in  his  pulpit  so  he  can  preach  to  every- 
body absent  as  well  as  present.  Perhaps  before  the 
publishers  can  raise  the  money  to  get  this  book  off 
the  press,  he  will  have  completed  the  radio  mirrow 
by  which  the  folks  can  also  see  him  as  he  preaches, 
even  tho  they  be  a  thousand  miles  away.  I  have  been 
told  he  rubbed  the  Moab  rabbit  foot  on  Bishop  Dar- 
lington and  got  his  present  appointment,  and  that 
the  Bishop  has  not  been  the  same  man  since. 

He  was  also  a  pollyglot  linquist.  He  never  saw 
a  soul  he  couldn't  talk  to  in  his  native  tongue.  He 
made  himself  so  widely  known  that  he  will  be  receiv- 
ing foreign  callers  of  the  friends  he  made  for  the 
next  ten  years.  We  will  hear  from  him  some  more 
as  these  pages  run  on. 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  69 

We  sailed  on  the  Asia  of  the  Faber  Line.  From 
New  York  to  the  other  side  of  the  Atlantic  and  across 
the  Mediterranean  we  went  on  that  boat,  which  was 
our  home  for  three  full  weeks.  It  was  glorious  but 
it  was  hard  on  Hill  billies  who  lived  on  land  and  not 
on  the  sea.  Leaving  New  York,  we  steamed  to  Pro- 
vidence. Some  policemen  came  on  board  and  bribed 
the  stewards  to  sell  them  some  liquor.  I  got  the 
number  of  their  caps  and  if  I  am  "pinched"  in  Pro- 
vidence, I  shall  "squeel  on  these  cops. 

One  of  the  finest  gentlemen  among  us  was  Rev. 
A.  L.  Stanford,  pastor  of  one  of  the  greatest  churches 
in  North  Carolina.  The  church  runs  over  Sundays 
and  standing  room  is  in  demand.  He  has  been  a 
great  success  as  an  Evangelist  and  caused  many  to 
flee  from  the  wrath  to  come  and  get  ready  for  chang- 
ing worlds.  Imagine  my  surprise  therefore  when  I 
went  in  his  room  and  found  stretched  upon  the  floor, 
one  of  these  water  proof  suits  that  looked  like  the 
skin  of  a  sea  demon.  The  agent  was  painting  in  glo- 
rious colors  its  excellence  when  the  ship  goes  down. 
You  spread  it  out  so  your  right  foot  enters  A,  your 
left  B,  your  right  arm  is  put  through  C  and  then 
with  your  left  hand  you  pull  cord  4,  and  clamp  Z. 
Then  you  button  it  up  and  as  the  boat  sinks,  you 
float  out.  No  water  can  enter  it  and  it  can't  sink. 
He  rented  it  for  $15.00  and  carried  it  for  15,000 
miles  over  desert  sand  and  rocky  wastes,  from  train 
to  train  and  the  last  I  saw  of  him  in  New  York, 
he  was  taking  it  back  to  the  office  of  the  firm  who 
owns  it. 


70  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD  WORLD  .      . 

He  asked  me  what  I  thought  of  it  and  I  told  him 
it  was  fine  if  he  could  induce  the  captain  to  keep 
the  boat  from  sinking  long  enough  for  him  to  find 
a  good  place  to  read  his  instructions  and  put  it  on 
properly.  Then  when  he  was  floating  out,  he  would 
have  to  put  up  a  sign  to  keep  sharks  and  whales 
from  biting  off  his  foot  and  letting  in  water  enough 
to  sink  him.  But  another  thing  that  bothered  me 
was  he  always  demanded  eggs  boiled  just  three 
minutes,  no  more  and  no  less  and  coffee  a  certain 
temperature.  I  feared  he  would  have  trouble  getting 
served  this  way  out  there. 

But  another  thing  troubled  me  more.  In  this  age 
even  common  sinners  cry  "woman  and  children  first." 
It  made  me  sad  to  think  of  the  boat  going  down 
with  all  the  women  and  children  sinking  and  a 
bachelor  Methodist  preacher  getting  into  a  contrap- 
tion like  this  and  floating  out  to  safety.  He  could 
not  take  any  lady  with  him.  Perhaps  when  the 
hour  came,  he  would  have  placed  a  certain  lady 
snugly  in  this  contraption  and  followed  her  the  best 
he  could.  But  he  proved  himself  a  first  class  traveler 
and  brought  more  home  than  many  others  do. 

It  is  a  sad  and  solemn  time  when  the  boat  sails 
out.  I  went  to  the  office  for  my  mail  as  she  settled 
down  to  her  speed  and  found  a  pile  of  mail  that 
friends  had  sent  to  me  to  the  steamer.  I  had  thirty- 
five  letters,  cards  and  telegrams  and  two  boxes  of 
chocolate  candy  from  two  young  ladies.  Among 
these  messages  a  friend  sent  this  little  poem,  which 
helped  me  all  along  the  way — 


TRAVELS   IN    THE  OLD  WORLD  71 

MY  STAFF. 

I  have  a  staff  to  prop  my  way 
As  I  plod  onward  thru  the  day 
And  if  by  stormy  paths  I  fare, 
I  lean  on  it — the  staff  of  prayer. 

And  so  I  must  toil  and  scale 
The  heights  that  frown  above  the  vale 
It  aids  my  longing  foot  steps  there 
It  buoys  my  heart — the  staff  of  prayer. 

It  is  my  comrade  and  my  friend 
And  so  shall  be  unto  the  end 
Of  every  mortal  toil  and  care, 
Staff  of  my  soul,  the  staff  of  prayer. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

SNAPSHOTS    ON    THE    SEAS — WE    GET    SEA    SICK. 

For  several  days,  we  had  a  rough  voyage  and 
our  folks  began  to  look  puny.  Their  actions  were 
not  all  that  could  be  desired.  As  it  grew  worse, 
and  one  by  one  they  looked  pale  and  sick  and  sad, 
my  sympathy  turned  to  them.  They  were  a  sad  and 
hopeless  lot  of  tourists,  lolling  about  with  faces 
pale,  eyes  watering  and  lips  trembling.  But  I  could- 
n't do  anything  for  them.  I  was  like  a  woman  who 
went  to  the  ship  doctor  saying,  "Doctor,  please  do 
something  for  my  husband."  "Madam"  said  the  sea 
dog,  "just  let  him  alone,  he  will  do  something  for 
himself  presently." 

I  shall  ever  remember  a  bridle  couple.  The  bride 
looked  so  pale,  pathetic  and  sick;  she  seemed  to  be 
almost  ready  to  give  up  the  grip  on  life.  She  leaned 
her  throbbing  head  on  the  groom's  shoulder,  turned 
her  sick  watery  eyes  toward  his  and  in  a  feeble 
voice  said, 

"Sugar  pie,  do  you  really  love  your  honey  lump?" 
He  nodded  his  aching  head,  and  answered  in  the 
affirmative  while  a  hot  fluid  filled  his  mouth.  She 
grew  quiet  a  moment  and  then  turning  toward  him 
with  a  sicker  look  than  before  said, 

"Honey  I  thought  that  would  make  me  feel  better 
but  it  didn't." 

While  they  were  at  their  worst,  I  penned  the  fol- 
lowing lines,  which  I  read  to  them  when  they  grew 
strong  enough.  The  poetic  merit  is  not  much,  but 
the  description  is  accurate. 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  73 

I  took  a  trip  one  time  across  the  briny  deep 

For  of  the  big  old  world,  I  longed  to  have  a  peep. 

I  had  my  bag  and  baggage  and  a  passport  in  my 

hand, 
As  I  turned  my  back  that  day  upon  my  native  land. 
I  sure  was  feeling  bully  as  I  stood  upon  the  deck, 
And  saw  the  tug  boat  take  that  steamer  by  the  neck 
My  face  was  looking  outward  to  lands  that  lie  afar 
As  I  dreamed  of  scenes  resplendent  beneath  the  East- 
ern Star. 

She  turned  her  prow  outward  toward  the  rising  sun 

And  I  pranced  upon  that  deck,  ready  to  have  some 
fun. 

But  the  sea  was  getting  angry,  and  the  billows  roll- 
ing high 

And  my  nogging  it  was  aching  as  the  waves  went 
dashing  by. 

My  stomach  felt  just  like  the  land  of  the  Russian 
Red, 

And  it  seemed  to  me  ten  demons  were  dancing  in 
my  head. 

The  sky  was  looking  awful  and  the  world  was  turn- 
ing round, 

The  sea  looked  like  perdition  and  the  winds  made 
fiendish  sound 

Then  a  slimy,  creeping  serpent  crawled  right  up 
into  my  throat, 

And  I  knew  right  then  the  ocean  would  surely  get 
my  goat. 


74  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

My  mouth  was  tasting  bitter  with  a  devilish  awful 
taste 

As  I  took  me  to  my  stateroom  in  the  greatest  pos- 
sible haste. 

Then — I  longed  for  tera  firma  with  a  sad,  pa- 
thetic wish 

As  I  hung  upon  the  railing — looking  at  the  fish. 

It  is  interesting  to  study  the  characters  on  board. 
Here  are  two  old  Jews — man  and  wife — journeying 
back  to  Jerusalem  in  their  old  age  to  stand  on  holy 
ground  and  let  their  dust  mingle  with  the  soil  of 
the  Holy  City  when  their  hearts  stand  still.  Every 
day  they  spend  much  time  reading  their  Hebrew 
Bible  and  praying  to  the  God  of  Israel.  They  are 
very  attentive  to  each  other.  Both  are  old  and  not 
long  for  earth's  Pilgrim  Path.  What  is  more  pa- 
thetic than  devout  Jews  of  God's  chosen  race,  who 
will  not  accept  God's  Saviour? 

Here  are  two  sweet  and  bright  little  Portugese 
girls,  who  were  born  in  America,  eleven  and  thir- 
teen. Their  mother  is  dead  and  an  aunt  is  taking 
them  to  Lisbon  to  put  them  in  a  convent.  They  are 
nice  and  full  of  life.  We  talked  with  them  a  great 
deal.  What  a  strange  idea  of  religion  to  take  chil- 
dren like  these  and  confine  them  to  gloomy  prisons ! 

There  are  many  of  the  better  class  of  Syrians  re- 
turning to  their  native  land.  Some  have  been  in 
America  several  years  and  with  their  usual  thrift 
and  economy,  have  saved  money  to  take  home  for 
investments.  Some  are  going  back  to  look  for  loved 
ones,  they  have  not  seen  or  heard  from  since  the 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  75 

war.  They  are  thoroughly  Americanized.  Here  is 
one  from  Macon,  Ga.  He  has  two  little  tots  by  the 
name  of  Joe  Brown  Maroon  and  Hoke  Smith  Ma- 
roon, showing  that  he  caught  the  spirit  of  Georgia 
politics  and  honored  two  of  that  State's  Governors. 
He  begged  us  to  go  home  with  him  to  the  Lebanon s 
and  visit  him  for  several  days.  He  meant  it  and 
would  have  given  us  all  styles  of  Eastern  hospitality. 

NADIA   ABRAHAM. 

No  character  on  board  was  more  charming  to 
me  than  Abraham.  One  day  with  a  cheery  smile, 
a  soft  voice  and  a  gleam  of  his  brown  kindly  eye, 
he  bade  me  "good  morning."  I  was  much  with  him 
after  that  and  the  more  I  saw  him,  the  more  the 
charm  of  his  heroic  soul  uplifted  me.  Gradually  I 
got  his  story  from  him.  His  people  were  christians 
in  Mesopotamia.  His  good  mother  and  father  died 
a  few  years  ago  and  he  and  his  brother  went  to 
America,  leaving  two  brothers  and  two  sisters  be- 
hind them.  One  brother,  who  was  a  missionary,  was 
slaughtered  by  the  Turks.  The  other  brother,  also 
a  minister,  remained  at  his  post,  but  had  to  send 
his  family  to  Egypt  for  safety.  He  has  not  been 
able  to  see  them  for  years. 

Abraham  saved  his  money  and  was  in  the  steer- 
age of  this  boat,  sleeping  in  a  place  no  better  than 
a  stable  and  eating  food  hardly  fit  for  pigs,  to  save 
his  money  to  send  himself  and  nephew  to  school, 
while  preparing  for  the  ministry.  A  letter  from 
him  a  few  days  ago, "says  he  is  in  the  University  in 


76  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD  WORLD 

Beyrout.  He  loved  a  sweet  Armenian  lass  and  one 
day,  she  was  to  be  his  but  when  the  brutal  Turks 
drove  the  women  and  children  out  like  cattle  on 
the  long  road  of  deportation  to  death  and  horrors 
far  worse,  they  laid  rough  hands  on  Abraham's 
sweetheart  and  he  has  never  heard  from  her  since. 

He  took  us  thru  the  steerage,  and  we  held  services 
for  the  folks.  It  was  a  strange  service  on  the  deck 
of  the  boat  as  we  sailed  right  on  into  the  rising  sun. 
I  preached  once  and  the  other  preachers  helped. 
Abraham  acted  as  interpreter.  At  the  conclusion, 
a  Mohammedan,  a  Greek  Catholic  and  a  Roman 
Catholic  also  took  part,  and  Abraham  said  they  were 
speaking  words  of  appreciation  for  our  interest  in 
them  and  for  the  messages  we  brought  as  well  as 
paying  high  tribute  to  the  ideals  and  Christianity 
of  America.  ! 

When  I  reached  Egypt,  a  handsome  and  court- 
eous young  man  called  for  me  one  night  at  the  hotel. 
He  was  Abraham's  nephew.  He  had  been  advised 
of  our  coming  and  was  there  to  offer  his  services 
as  a  guide.  He  also  brought  invitations  from  his 
mother  for  us  to  visit  their  home  and  take  tea. 
Rev.  C.  M.  Pickens  and  myself  went.  As  we  received 
their  christian  hospitality  and  gracious  manners, 
we  felt  we  were  in  the  presence  of  God's  noblemen. 
I  have  not  met  finer  or  more  heroic  lads  than 
Abraham  and  this  boy  Gilbert.  I  wish  some  mail 
would  bring  me  money  to  help  them  in  school.  What 
a  great  investment! 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD  WORLD  77 

THE  SINGING  SYRIAN. 

He  is  singing  his  song  tonight — weird,  trembly, 
soft,  quivering,  like  Orientals  sing.  The  moon  runs 
low  and  the  breeze  of  the  Mediterranean  is  soft  and 
dreamy,  while  the  bright  stars  shine  on  us.  There 
he  stands,  up  toward  the  prow  where  he  sleeps  on 
deck  at  night.  He  pours  from  his  lips — his  soulful 
song.  I  was  taking  a  stroll  on  deck  with  Abraham 
before  I  slept  and  I  paused  to  ask  what  song  this 
youth  was  singing.  His  song  was  not  a  lamentable 
wail  of  Jeremiah  or  an  outward  howl  of  inward 
pain.  His  food  was  the  kind  poor  dogs — not  rich 
dogs  eat — but  he  was  glad  to  get  it.  His  bed  was 
blanket  on  the  hard  deck  but  he  was  happy  while 
some  in  the  First  Class  with  the  best  they  could 
buy,  were  growling  all  the  time. 

I  wasn't  much  struck  on  his  music  but  it  was 
better  than  I  have  heard  choirs  deliver  with  the 
anthem  wiggle  wobble  and  the  tenor  toe  dance  as 
they  do  the  chromatic  scale  like  a  monkey  on  a  lad- 
der. But  I  wanted  to  know  the  song  he  sang.  It 
was,  of  course, — I  might  have  known — a  love  song. 
He  was  nearing  his  native  hills  and  his  heart  was 
throbbing.  He  was  singing  to  his  Syrian  lassie  up 
near  the  Lebanon  cedars  as  the  boat,  plowing  thru 
the  blue  waters,  brought  him  nearer  home.  He  shut 
his  eyes  and  sang  and  dreamed.  What  was  a  hard 
bed  and  harder  bread  to  him  when  his  soul  was  sail- 
ing in  Loveland  and  Dreamland  ?  Let  him  sing.  If 
I  had  known  the  tune,  I  would  have  joined  in. 


78         TRAVELS  IN  THE  OLD  WORLD 
JOE  JABER,  THE  DRUSE. 

He  is  a  bright  and  inteligent  son  of  the  Hauran 
hills  where  Abraham  lived.  He  is  going  home  after 
nine  years  to  see  the  country  and  find  his  mother. 
His  people  are  Druses — a  peculiar  faith  with  a 
mixture  of  Christianity  and  some  heathen  religion, 
but  Joe  is  a  christian.  He  is  thoroughly  American 
and  had  great  admiration  for  our  country. 

He  begged  me  to  go  home  with  him  and  be  "A 
religion  man"  to  his  people.  If  I  would  live  with 
them,  they  would  take  me  as  one  of  their  tribe  and 
all  my  wants  would  be  supplied.  Hospitality  rules 
them.  They  do  not  sell  to  one  another.  All  is  gifts. 
I  am  sure  I  would  have  found  it  even  so.  Then  Joe 
said  with  his  charming  broken  speech. 

"Me  no  like  our  religion  man.  He  tells  us  God 
hates  other  people,  and  we  must  hate  them.  But  me 
like  American  religion  man.  He  tells  us  God  is  love 
and  we  must  love  one  another.  Me  go  to  church  in 
Ohio.  Religion  man  tell  people  to  give  money  to 
send  food  and  clothes  and  doll  babies  to  little  girls 
in  Syria.  American  girls  have  these  but  ours  not. 
I  cry  and  say  that  the  religion  man  for  me." 

What  a  telling  beautiful  tribute!  And  what  a 
fine  example  of  a  Macedonian  call!  I  left  Joe  in 
Beyrout  but  one  night  he  walked  in  the  hotel  at 
Damascus.  He  had  found  us  and  we  received  him 
as  a  guest  of  honor.  He  gave  Bro.  Welch  and  my- 
self each  a  beautiful  Damascus  brass  vase  for  our 
wives.  He  had  a  curious  looking  Kimona  clad  di- 
gnitary with  him,  who  looked  like  he  might  be  a 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD  WORLD  79 

Druse  Presiding  Elder,  and  as  he  and  Joe  departed 
for  the  Hauron,  I  had  a  lingering  suspicion  there 
might  be  a  wedding  brewing.  Oh!  how  I  wish  T 
could  have  been  best  man. 

EATING — THE  EUROPEAN  PLAN. 

There  are  three  kinds  of  eating — The  American 
plan,  which  is  pay  for  it  before  you  get  it ;  European, 
pay  for  it  both  before  and  after  you  get  it;  The 
Ethiopian,  get  it  any  way  you  can.  All  of  them  have 
merits  and  demerits. 

It  is  not  polite  to  kick  about  food  away  from 
home.  It  is  a  sure  sign  we  haven't  much  at  home 
and  then  it  accompishes  nothing  but  hurts  your  toes 
like  most  kicking.  European  fare  on  the  whole  is 
good.  If  there  was  some  way  to  eliminate  97% 
percent  of  the  style  and  take  the  starch  out  of  the 
Bourbons  and  Dukes  who  are  called  waiters,  it  would 
help.  The  biggest  trouble  is,  you  get  no  breakfast 
save  a  cup  of  coffee  and  a  hard  roll,  and  at  luncheon 
and  dinner,  it  takes  three  hours  to  eat  the  ceremony 
and  the  food.  They  have  a  mania  for  changing  plates 
and  washing  dishes.  They  will  lug  in  plates  big 
enough  for  a  roast  turkey  and  implements  sufficient 
for  a  barbecue  and  all  the  food  that  comes  with 
that  course,  will  be  a  piece  of  cheese  as  big  as  a 
domino  with  a  smell  as  big  as  abattoir.  Macaroni 
herbs  and  long  tail  coats  are  much  in  evidence. 
There  are  fifty-seven  variety  of  cheese.  Some  are 
dead  and  some  very  much  alive.  There  is  one  kind 
that  is  said  to  be  confined  in  an  air  tight  iron  cage 


80  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

between  meals  and  tied  on  the  table  at  meal  time. 
To  like  it  is  a  cultivated  taste  but  you  are  liable  to 
lose  all  your  friends  and  all  respect  for  yourself 
during  the  process  of  cultivation.  It  is  best  to  use 
a  gas  mask  when  you  attack  it. 

It  is  said  no  waiter  is  admitted  to  the  waiter's 
union  until  he  can  stand  in  one  postion  for  seven 
minutes  without  showing  signs  of  intelligence.  And 
the  chief  waiter — Oh  boy,  he  has  more  dignity  than 
the  Arch  Bishop  of  Cranberry  and  the  Duke  of 
Spaghetti  combined.  I  am  writing  particularly  of 
Italy. 

An  illustration.  In  one  city,  we  saw  the  head 
waiter  at  night,  and  told  him  we  would  breakfast 
at  7,  and  would  like  so  many  cups  of  coffee  and  so 
many  of  tea.  When  we  entered  the  dining  room, 
they  looked  at  us  as  much  surprised  as  if  we  were 
pre-historic  animals.  They  all  stood  stiff  at  atten- 
tion with  an  air  that  we  were  intruders  not  welcom- 
ed. We  sat  down  and  they  retired  in  orderly  form. 
After  a  conference,  the  head  waiter  advanced,  bowed 
stiffly  and  asked  our  business.  We  told  him  we 
wanted  breakfast,  which  consisted  only  of  a  certain 
number  of  cups  of  coffee  and  tea  with  bread  and 
butter  which  was  ordered  the  night  before.  He 
went  to  the  kitchen  and  was  gone  long  enough  to 
parch  coffee  and  brew  tea.  When  at  last  he  re- 
turned from  his  vacation,  some  one  asked  him  for 
a  scrambled  egg.  He  said  they  were  extra  and  they 
did  not  know  how  to  scramble  them.  He  was  or- 
dered to  bring  three  boiled  eggs.  Then  all  of  them 
stopped  to  figure  the  cost  of  three  boiled  eggs,  made 


K 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  81 

out  the  bill  and  presented  it  before  the  egg  was 
boiled  while  all  the  others  waited.  Then  someone 
called  for  a  drink  of  water.  This  waiter  reported 
the  breach  of  manners  to  the  chief,  who  advanced 
like  a  cardinal  and  asked  what  the  confusion  was 
about.  He  went  back  to  the  kitchen,  was  gone  four 
minutes  and  returned  with  a  menu  with  fifty-seven 
variety  of  strong  drink.  We  begged,  we  lost  patience 
but  never  got  water  that  morning.  They  cannot 
understand  why  folks  want  water. 

In  Belgium,  I  went  all  day  under  a  burning  sun 
unable  to  get  a  drink  of  water.  I  went  to  a  lass 
in  front  of  a  home  and  asked  of  her  a  cup  of  water. 
She  offered  me  whiskey,  wine,  beer,  milk,  tea.  When 
I  refused  and  asked  water,  she  threw  back  her  head, 
gave  a  peculiar  laugh  and  said,  "Water"?  "No 
water." 

This  Italian  hotel  is  one  of  the  finest  in  all  Europe 
as  is  proven  by  the  fact  that  the  Carusoes  were 
there  when  we  were  and  Lady  Astor  was  expected 
the  next  week.  Perhaps  this  is  why  they  were  going 
so  strong  on  stiff  stuff  and  then  perhaps  we  Demo- 
cratic Americans  appeared  so  green  and  lacking  in 
the  exalted  atmosphere  of  peers  and  nobles,  that  we 
just  shocked  them  beyond  recovery.  They  were 
keen,  however,  after  tips  and  I  handed  out  this  one 
complimentary  from  the  party. 

Here's  to  the  waiters  of  the  Palace  Hotel 

With  their  long  tail  coats,  they  cut  quite  a  swell. 

Like  dukes  and  nuts  and  Royal  rakes, 

They  look  you  over  while  maccaroni  bakes. 


82  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

They  stand  at  the  table  three  times  a  day 
With  their  long  tail  duds  getting  in  the  way 
You  may  be  hungry  and  want  a  piece  of  bread, 
But  no  such  idea  ever  enters  his  head. 

You  long  for  water  and  ask  for  a  drink, 

He  looks  at  you  blank,  unable  to  think. 

He  has  booze  and  beer,  and  all  kinds  of  wine 

But  never  heard  of  water  when  folks  come  to  dine. 

He  stands  like  a  shadow  of  a  ghostly  witch 
With  never  a  move,  save  a  coat  tail  switch, 
This  wonderful  Lord  of  this  beautifull  Bay, 
The  tourists  must  face  when  they  dine  each  day. 

You  get  some  coffee,  but  cold  and  strong 

After  you  have  waited  and  waited  long. 

You  can't  drink  with  your  fingers  and  ask  for  a 

spoon 
He  looks  at  you  queer,  like  he  thinks  you  a  loon. 

They  are  waiters  because  they  wait  and  they  wait, 
And  you  wait,  and  you  wait  and  you  wait  and 

you  wait, 
As  you  sit  at  the  table  by  the  beautiful   Bay 
And  beg  for  your  rations  three  times  a  day. 

There  is  no  auger,  no  matter  the  bore, 
That  could  put  in  an  idea  not  there  before. 
Boob  McNutt  is  a  star  of  the  first  magnitude 
Compared  to  you  in  your  dress  prelude. 


TRAVELS  IN  THE  OLD  WORLD         83 

I  know  what  you  ask  with  your  speechless  lips, 
Your  only  thought  is  thinking  of  tips, 
And  there  is  one  good  tip  I  long  to  bestow 
On  you  knights  of  the  soup  bowl  before  I  go. 

But  all  hotels  and  all  service  of  our  tour  was  not 
like  this.  Service  in  Switzerland,  France  and  es- 
pecially in  England  far  surpassed  this.  But  to  me 
the  service  and  the  food  was  enjoyed  far  more  in 
Palestine  and  Egypt  than  in  these  other  countries. 
The  hotel  proprietors  were  more  cordial  and  the 
waiters  more  human  and  considerate.  From  the 
time  we  landed  in  Syria  until  we  closed  the  journey 
of  this  section  and  embarked  in  Egypt,  I  had  no 
fault  to  find  with  our  food  and  our  service.  They 
too  believe  in  ceremony,  courses  and  dish  washing 
but  they  are  not  as  stiff  and  dehumanized  as  some 
other  European  public  servants. 

The  food  and  service  this  year,  was  far  better 
than  in  1914,  due  to  western  notions  that  reached 
them  during  the  war  as  well  as  to  the  fact  that 
they  have  long  been  without  tourists  and  are  glad 
to  see  them.  As  far  as  you  see  in  the  markets  and 
hotels,  the  war  has  done  little  hurt  to  things.  Food 
is  high  but  native  products  everywhere  are  cheaper 
than  at  home.    American  products  are  high  of  course. 

A  great  ghost  that  haunts  the  tourist  is  the  vi- 
cious tipping  system.  And  yet  I  must  register  my 
experience  in  this  matter  was  not  as  disagreeable 
beyond  the  ocean  as  in  New  York.  I  was  threatened 
cursed  and  ridiculed  at  the  pier  there  for  not  deliver- 
ing heavy  tips  after  I  had  paid  all  that  was  agreed 


84  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD         „      . 

upon  for  transportation  and  this  by  the  man  with 
whom  I  dealt.  He  did  not  get  it.  Now  all  your 
regular  tipping  is  provided  for  by  an  arrangement 
that  always  adds  10  per  cent,  to  your  bill  for  tips. 
But  even  then,  there  is  enough  tipping  demanded 
to  make  it  interesting.  This  does  not  include  the 
steamer  service  for  then  some  require  so  much  more 
attention  than  others,  that  it  is  best  to  leave  this 
with  the  individual. 

The  stewards  and  servants  are  to  be  pitied.  They 
receive  small  pay  and  have  a  hard  time  and  we  found 
them  appreciative  and  satisfied  with  a  every  little 
sum.  I  must  again  say  that  Italy  did  not  measure 
up  to  the  others  in  these  matters. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

SOME  OTHER  INCIDENTS — MY  LOST  CHEESE. 

I  own  up  to  a  lot  of  natural  and  unnatural  de- 
pravity. Like  most  people,  I  admit  some  low  and 
depraved  tastes.  One  of  these  is  a  strong  liking 
for  all  the  cheeses  of  the  Old  World.  The  greater 
claim  that  cheese  can  make  to  antiquity  and  the 
dark  ages,  the  better  I  like  it.  I  have  no  patience 
with  over  fastidious  folk,  who  refuse  to  sit  at  a 
table  with  a  cake  of  Limberger  after  its  whiskers 
are  gray  or  frown  on  Comembert  and  Roqueford 
because  of  the  streaks  of  yellow  and  green  running 
through  them. 

A  friend  in  Jerusalem,  knowing  my  taste  in  this 
direction,  did  a  gallant  and  courteous  thing.  He 
brought  me  a  ten  pound  cake  of  his  home  made 
cheese  that  was  old  enough  to  talk.  In  fact  that 
was  what  it  was  doing.  It  was  strong  enough  to 
force  Henry  Cabbot  Lodge  out  of  the  Senate  and 
put  the  quietus  on  George  Harvey.  He  put  this 
cheese  in  a  strong  metal  bucket,  sealed  it  so  it  would 
be  air  tight,  then  placed  it  in  a  strong  basket  and 
tied  it  with  a  rope.  When  he  gave  it  to  me.  I  heard 
a  sloshing  noise  and  he  informed  me  as  near  as  I 
could  understand  that  this  was  the  embalming  fluid 
to  "keep"  it.  But  it  didn't  keep  it.  Later  on,  I  had 
occasion  to  remember  his  caution,  not  to  let  any  air 
get  in  it  or  any  of  the  odor  get  out. 

I  carried  the  basket  from  Jerusalem  down  to 
Egypt,  via  Beersheba  and  Gaza.    I  guarded  it  like 


86  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

it  was  a  precious  treasure,  and  often  dreamed  of 
supping  coffee  as  I  ate  it  at  my  home  far  away. 
When  we  reached  Kantara,  the  Egyptian  border  on 
the  Suez,  we  had  to  go  thru  the  Customs  House. 
That  is  always  fun  and  it  was  more  so  this  time  for 
the  officer  was  a  typical  Englishman  of  the  Duke 
of  Lancaster  pattern  with  up  curled  mustache  like 
the  Earle  of  Essex  wears.  He  couldn't  see  a  joke 
if  you  would  slap  him  in  the  face  with  it.  He  ex- 
amined all  of  us  as  we  passed  and  when  my  pe- 
culiar shaped  basket,  tied  with  a  rope  passed  in 
full  review  under  his  official  eye,  he  asked  in  a  voice 
like  it  came  from  the  tower  of  London, 

"What  ave  you  in  ere?  Hany  hexplosives  or 
hintoxicants?" 

"Yes  sir!"  I  meekly  replied,  "Both." 

"Let  me  'ave  hit." 

I  passed  it  to  him  and  he  examined  it,  thump- 
ing the  basket.  He  then  asked  me  again  what  it 
was.  I  told  him  that  it  was  Arabic  Cheese.  He 
took  one  step  backward  and  motioned  me  forward 
without  a  word.  As  I  moved  on,  I  thought  how  well 
I  could  smuggle  in  a  million  dollars  worth  of  dia- 
monds by  putting  them  in  a  bucket  of  cheese. 

I  carried  my  basket  two  thousand  miles  up  to 
Milan,  Italy,  where  the  present  Pope  was  at  that 
time  Presiding  Elder.  As  I  slept,  I  had  it  by  my 
bed  and  as  I  toured  on,  it  went  by  my  side.  I  did 
not  let  my  fellow  travelers  know  what  it  was,  for 
touching  this  cheese,  people  are  divided  into  two 
classes,  those  who  like  it  and  those  who  do  not.  And 
the  feeling  is  very  intense,  conviction  strong  and 


TRAVELS  IN  THE  OLD  WORLD        87 

lines  of  division  marked.  I  didn't  want  any  division 
or  argument  in  the  party.  Rev.  E.  R.  Welch  did 
know  but  he  was  better  to  me  than  I  would  have 
been  to  him  in  not  telling  it. 

But  at  Milan,  my  cheese  came  to  grief,  almost 
disrupted  the  party  and  was  in  a  fair  way  of  raising 
international  questions  that  could  not  have  been 
settled  at  the  Hague  Conference.  Smaller  things 
than  that,  have  caused  wars. 

The  waiters  at  the  Milan  hotel  were  typical  spiked 
tailed,  dining  room  dudes.  They  stood  about  like 
the  statute  of  Lord  Nelson  in  Trafalger  Square.  Dig- 
nity stood  out  like  horns  on  their  faces.  It  was 
impossible  to  get  one  to  see  or  do  anything  out  of 
the  routine.  It  was  beyond  all  their  ken  to  under- 
stand how  anyone  would  want  a  drink  of  water 
when  he  could  get  Milan  Gin.  They  stood,  stared 
and  thought  but  most  of  it  was  just  standing  and 
staring.  A  craving  passion  for  vengeance  seized 
me  and  I  wanted  to  do  something  to  them  that  would 
shock  them.  I  am  sure  I  did  it.  I  am  only  sorry 
I  was  not  there  to  see  what  they  did  when  it  began 
to  dawn  on  them  there  was  something  rotten  in 
Denmark  and  Milan. 

As  we  started  for  the  train,  I  discovered  my 
cheese  box  was  leaking,  and  I  have  already  said, 
air  must  not  get  to  it.  I  think  some  enemy  did  a 
dirty  deed  and  punctured  the  bucket  while  I  slept. 
I  have  offered  $100.00,  for  his  capture  and  if  I  find 
him,  I  am  sure  when  the  Bishop  calls  my  name  and 
asks,  "Is  there  anything  against  him,"  my  Presiding 
Elder  will  arise  and  answer,  "There  is." 


88  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

I  well  knew  this  cheese  would  not  be  tolerated  in 
a  semi-civilized  country  twelve  hours  after  it  got 
out  of  that  bucket.  I  had  to  do  something  and  do 
it  quick.  If  necessity  is  the  mother  of  invention, 
the  old  lady  mothered  me.  While  the  Dukes  of 
Macaroni  were  rubbing  their  palms  for  tips,  I  stole 
back  into  a  dark  pantry  room  deposited  my  leaking 
cheese,  covered  it  with  some  bags  and  hurried  for 
the  waiting  carriages. 

I  grieved  over  my  lost  cheese  but  the  loss  was 
somewhat  lightened  when  I  tried  to  picture  the  scene 
at  that  hotel  as  the  odors  from  that  pantry  floated 
out  on  the  breezes  of  sunny  Italia,  and  smote  these 
dignified  dukes  in  the  face.  I  wonder — Oh  I  won- 
der— what  that  head  waiter  said,  what  he  did  and 
how  he  gesticulated?  I  wonder  what  the  tourists 
thought.  Perhaps  the  health  officers  and  the  police 
came  in  to  investigate.  I  have  almost  become  re- 
conciled to  the  loss  in  drawing  this  picture.  And 
as  I  have  thought  it  over,  I  decided  perhaps  no  one 
punctured  the  can. 

Perhaps  it  just  stunk  the  bottom  out  of  the  basket. 

CHEESE  A  LA  TURK. 

I  shall  never  forget  the  time  and  place  when  I  was 
introduced  to  real  Turkish  cheese.  It  was  far  in  the 
interior  of  the  Old  World.  The  morning  was  very 
early  and  sleep  had  been  poor  and  short.  Many 
nerve  racking  things  had  brought  us  to  the  point 
where  it  would  be  hard  to  live  with  our  in-laws  and 
out-laws.    A  yellow  streak  was  running  through  our 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  89 

constitution  and  by  laws  and  our  mouths  had  a  taste 
like  we  had  been  eating  mud. 

A  spiked  tail  coat  worn  by  the  Knight  of  the  hash 
bowl  sat  me  down  in  a  corner  of  the  room  and  went 
off  as  stiff  as  if  he  had  a  golf  stick  down  his  back 
with  his  nose  pointing  toward  Greenwich.  He 
brought  in  an  English  lady  and  sat  her  at  my  table. 
She  had  her  husband  with  her.  She  seemed  to  take 
him  wherever  she  went.  The  Duke  then  went  off 
and  remained  long  enough  to  make  several  pastoral 
calls  for  in  these  hotels,  they  serve  you  while  you 
wait.  He  returned  with  a  box  of  real  Turkish  cheese. 
I  had  never  met  it  before  nor  have  I  met  it  since. 
It  has  overtaken  me  a  few  times  but  not  met  me. 
But  unlike  some  other  folks  I  have  met,  I  have  not 
forgotten  it.  It  had  a  pointed  and  pungent  im- 
pression on  me.  It  is  served  as  an  appetizer  before 
breakfast.  It  also  cuts  down  food  consumption 
among  tourists  and  adds  to  the  savings  of  the  hotel 
proprietor. 

When  he  opened  the  coffin,  I  was  sorry  he  didn't 
have  the  burial  without  it.  The  lady  put  her  hand- 
kerchief to  her  nose  and  told  her  husband  to  get 
some  fresh  air.  Like  all  well  raised  husbands,  he 
obeys  his  wife  and  he  hurries  off  to  get  some.  I 
knew  he  would  not  find  any  for  they  do  not  have 
it  in  that  part  of  the  world.  As  he  returned  without 
it,  I  took  the  cheese  box  and  dipping  out  a  big 
spoonful  placed  it  in  my  plate.  The  lady  looked 
sicker  than  ever  and  feebly  asked, 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  with  it?" 

"Eat  it  Madam,"  I  replied,  "Do  you  think  I  am 
going  to  wear  it  on  my  coat  for  a  bouquet?"    When 


90  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD  WORLD 

I  finished,  she  said  in  a  faltering  voice,  "How  does 
it  taste?" 

"Just  like  it  smells  Madam,"  I  answered,  "Will 
you  have  some?" 

Then  I  made  the  following  little  speech  to  my 
comrades.  "You  folks  do  not  seem  to  realize  where 
you  are.  We  enter  Turkey  presently.  It  is  the 
most  unsanitary  country  in  the  world.  The  air  is 
literally  laden  with  germs  of  deadly  disease.  Bu- 
bonic Plague  and  Yellow  Fever  lade  the  air  and 
germs  of  Small  Pox  and  Typhus  run  rampant  every- 
where. The  only  thing  that  Science  has  ever  dis- 
covered that  can  cope  with  the  deadly  germs  of  the 
many  maladies  is  this  cheese.  Therefore  the  Govern- 
ment requires  you  to  eat  it.  If  you  have  its  odor 
on  your  breath  and  come  in  contact  with  an  epi- 
demic of  plague  or  fever,  the  germs  break  their 
necks  falling  over  one  another  getting  out  of  the 
way  and  appendictis  and  hook  worm  can't  turn  a 
peg  when  you  are  trying  to  digest  this  stuff."  When 
I  finished  my  eloquent  speech,  she  said  if  that  was 
the  case  to  pass  it  over  and  she  would  try  some  of 
it  but  when  she  got  a  close  whiff  she  pushed  it 
back  saying  almost  in  tears,  "I  will  catch  anything 
before  I  will  eat  that  stuff." 

THE  PRISONER  OF  PIREUS. 

As  our  boat  stood  in  the  harbor  of  Athens,  we 
noted  two  boats  loaded  with  prisoners  from  the 
Turkish  army.  Greece  and  Turkey  were  then  at 
war  and  the  battle  was  raging.    The  boats  were  not 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  91 

far  from  ours  and  some  of  our  Syrian  friends  con- 
versed with  some  of  the  prisoners.  Several  gave 
their  names  and  homes  and  begged  us  to  notify 
their  families  they  were  still  alive  if  we  reached 
Syria.  Some  of  them  had  not  communicated  with 
their  loved  ones  for  over  five  years.  Our  hearts 
were  moved  for  these  poor  fellows  and  we  longed 
to  help  them.  What  horrors  they  must  have  suffered 
forced  against  their  will  into  the  Turkish  army  with 
its  awful  life,  as  well  as  a  prison  ship  that  was  little 
better.  We  heard  a  splash  in  the  water  and  strokes 
of  a  swimmer.  One  of  them  unable  to  resist  the 
temptation  to  try  to  reach  our  boat  that  was  saik 
ing  to  his  home  and  loved  ones,  had  leaped  into  the 
water  and  was  swimming  toward  us.  Some  of  his 
fellow  countrymen  let  down  a  rope  and  after  hauling 
him  in  placed  him  in  the  hold  of  the  ship.  But  his 
liberty  was  short  for  an  officer  discovering  his  es- 
cape came  on  our  boat  and  carried  him  back  to 
prison.  We  tried  to  start  a  move  that  would  give 
them  their  liberty  and  hope  it  was  not  long  until 
they  walked  again  their  native  hills  and  mingled 
with  their  loved  ones. 

SNAP  SHOTS  ON  THE  BOAT. 

The  return  trip  on  the  Rochembeau  was  full  of 
interest.  She  is  one  of  the  most  popular  boats  afloat 
and  all  her  rooms  were  full.  They  came  from  every 
class  and  style,  from  Francisson  monks  to  professors, 
who  believed  their  fathers  were  monkeys.  We  had 
French  girls  coming  to  America  to  enter  school, 


92  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD  WORLD 

bent  on  bringing  French  culture  of  the  smoking, 
drinking  variety  and  also  a  head  of  the  department 
of  French  in  Blank  University,  who  was  returning 
from  a  vacation  in  France.  He  explained  his  con- 
duct by  saying  he  had  a  very  trying  year  and  was 
relaxing,  and  the  old  boy  was  well  up  on  the  French 
style  of  relaxation. 

The  sea  is  ugly  and  the  storm  is  raging,  so  we 
must  go  inside.  We  will  keep  our  minds  off  of 
other  troubles  by  studying  the  passengers.  We  are 
in  the  writing  room.  It  is  full  of  folks  writing  and 
reading.  Every  morning  a  musician,  who  thinks 
folks  are  charmed  with  his  gas  and  jazz,  takes  the 
stool  at  the  piano,  presses  the  accelerator  and  opens 
wide  the  exhaust  pipe.  It  was  horrible.  He  went 
from  one  side  of  the  key  board  to  the  other  with 
his  gyrations,  his  coat  tail  keeping  time  to  gymnastic 
steps  over  the  chromatic  scale.  He  did  it  like  a  leg- 
horn rooster,  scratching  in  straw.  There  would 
have  been  no  difficulty  in  organizing  a  mob  to  throw 
him  overboard  and  make  fish  food  out  of  him.  We 
just  lacked  a  leader. 

Early  one  morning  while  I  was  waiting  for  the 
Monk  Presiding  Elder  to  come  into  the  room  to  hold 
quarterly  conference,  which  he  did  at  6 :30,  I  found 
myself  alone.  I  had  time  for  meditation  and  action 
and  I  did  both.  I  filled  the  piano  with  paper,  care- 
fully packing  all  the  keys  back  in  the  internals  of 
the  machine.  At  the  appointed  time  the  performer 
bore  down  upon  us  with  music  rolls,  port  folios, 
and  a  silly  self  conscious  look  of  self  exaltation.  He 
bowed  and  got  ready.    He  screwed  the  stool  to  the 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  93 

proper  pose,  pulled  up  his  trousers,  fixed  his  coat, 
winked  his  eyes  and  slammed  his  fingers  down  on 
the  keys,  hoping  to  make  a  noise  that  would  drown 
a  thunder  storm.  But  instead,  he  heard  only  a  dull 
and  heavy  thud.  Again  and  again  he  tried,  raising 
all  the  keys,  opening  the  throttle,  turning  on  the 
magnetor  and  everything.  As  he  thumped,  he  turned 
his  head  sideways  and  listened  like  he  was  listening 
for  his  master's  voice.  He  then  opened  the  machine 
and  spent  about  an  hour  removing  a  waste  basket 
full  of  paper  from  the  lungs  and  liver  of  the  in- 
strument. He  said  some  things  in  French  which 
were  never  translated  to  me. 

PROF.  A.   MONKEY. 

There  he  sits.  He  teaches  in  some  Eastern  Uni- 
versity. He  wears  side  whiskers,  big  automobile 
tire  glasses,  and  a  know  it  all  look.  He  has  ten 
hens  about  him.  He,  rooster  like,  is  scratching  for 
bugs.  When  he  finds  one  he  holds  it  up  before  the 
hens,  they  chuckle  over  it  and  when  they  try  to  peck 
it,  he  swallows  it  while  he  struts  off  muttering, 
"Don't  you  think  I  am  a  smart  fellow." 

This  morning  they  sat  near  me  as  I  wrote  and 
I  heard  and  saw.  I  found  delight  in  watching  this 
rooster  scratch  and  hearing  the  hens  cackle  over 
the  bugs  he  found.  It  is  fine  fun  to  watch  a  man 
make  a  fool  of  himself  if  he  is  not  your  husband. 
He  scratched  in  the  field  of  Literature,  Music  and 
Politics.  Then  he  hopped  up  on  the  fence,  crowed 
loudly  to  the  hens  and  jumped  into  the  field  of  Re- 


94  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD       .      . 

ligion.  A  know  it  all  always  heads  there.  He 
knows  more  about  Religion  than  all  the  folks  who 
have  had  it  or  the  God  who  made  it. 

He  was  dead  sure  the  Bible  was  man  made  and 
inspiration  a  myth.  Man  was  not  created,  he  evo- 
luted  from  some  atom.  We  were  all  once  monkeys. 
I  had  never  been  tempted  to  believe  that  until  then. 
As  I  looked  at  him,  more  and  more  the  features 
and  actions  of  a  baboon  stood  out.  He  smacked 
his  mouth  like  a  monkey,  and  had  that  strange  look 
you  see  in  the  eyes  of  the  inmates  of  the  Zoo.  He 
certainly  had  not  evoluted  very  far  in  the  matter 
of  looking  silly. 

Then  he  said  he  believed  all  of  us  have  existed  in 
some  other  state  quite  a  number  of  times.  As  I 
listened  I  had  a  prehistoric  impression  I  had  known 
him  somewhere.  It  struck  me  I  might  have  been 
an  ant  eater  in  South  America  a  long  time  ago  which 
accounts  for  poking  my  nose  in  other  people's  busi- 
ness. I  used  to  range  along  a  tropic  river  where  an 
old  gray  monkey  roosted  on  a  tree,  scratching  cooties 
and  blinking  in  the  sun.  I  recognized  the  professor. 
One  of  the  women  there  was  then  a  parrot  in  the 
hollow  tree. 

Then  the  Doctor  said  the  soul  was  just  animat- 
ed emotion.  Religion  is  the  physic  urge  after  some 
higher  brain  cell.  All  of  which  reminds  us  of  the 
Scott,  who  spoke  to  the  student  who  would  not  be- 
lieve a  thing  he  could  not  see  and  understand, 
"Young  man,  have  you  ever  seen  your  brains?  Do 
you  believe  you  have  any?"    Then  he  added — "You 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  95 

and  I  know  everything.    You  know  ivey  thing  but 
what  a  fool  you  are,  and  I  know  that." 

THE    MANNISH    WOMAN. 

She  eats  in  front  of  me.  She  gives  me  the  creeps. 
The  shivers  run  over  me  and  ice  bugs  make  a  skating 
rink  out  of  my  spine  when  I  get  close  to  her.  She 
is  the  woman  who  tries  to  look  like  a  man,  talk  like 
a  man  and  dress  like  a  man.  Her  hair  is  short  and 
her  tongue  is  so  long,  I  don't  see  what  she  does 
with  it  when  she  is  not  using  it.  Her  voice  is  like 
a  bishop  at  conference.  She  stands  with  her  hands 
on  her  hips  with  that  "dog  gone  it"  pose  and  smokes. 
Her  face  is  florid  from  drink.  If  the  court  is  ready 
to  pass  sentence  on  me,  Your  Honor  please  send  me 
to  live  with  hounds  or  hogs  or  exile  me  to  the  jungle 
of  Africa  where  the  cooties  crawl,  the  hyenas  bawl 
and  the  stinging  serpents  look  at  me  with  fiery  eyes 
out  of  the  dark  as  they  wait  for  me  to  sleep  so  they 
can  suck  my  breath.  Do  anything  to  me  Judge,  but 
deliver  me  from  a  thing  like  that. 

THE  OLD  BIRDS. 

She  eats  at  the  next  table.  She  is  a  gray  haired 
American  woman.  She  spends  all  her  time  in  the 
saloon  and  smoking  room,  drinking  and  smoking. 
Her  specialty  is  to  coach  young  women  and  men  in 
this  French  Culture  in  which  she  is  a  specialist. 
She  has  not  been  sober  since  she  boarded  the  ship 
and  maybe  a  long  time  before.    Her  eyes  are  bleared 


96  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

and  she  wears  a  sinful  luring  look.  She  looks  for 
coarse  things  and  laughs  loudly  at  them  while  she 
drinks  and  gambles.  A  fallen  man  is  a  sad  sight  but 
a  fallen  woman  must  make  angels  weep. 

There  was  another  group  of  American  girls.  They 
were  college  girls,  touring  France  to  get  some  cul- 
ture, and  they  got  it.  They  had  marks  of  nice  sweet 
girls  once — but  the  marks  were  fading  fast.  They 
took  one  grand  plunge  in  drinking,  carousing  and 
smoking..  At  the  end  of  the  journey,  they  looked 
like  hags — faded,  haggard — old.  With  them  was  a 
young  French  lady — gayest  of  all.  She  was  vivac- 
ious and  pretty.  She  married  an  American  officer 
in  the  war  and  was  returning  to  him  from  her 
summer  in  France.  She  drank  continually,  danced 
and  led  the  rough  house  day  and  night,  like  a  wild 
thing  who  had  thrown  all  modesty  and  restraints 
to  the  winds.  But  the  day  before  we  reached  New 
York,  she  got  herself  together,  made  up  her  face  and 
met  her  mother-in-law  with  a  gracious  smile.  The 
lady  seemed  to  be  a  nice  cultured  woman,  and  putting 
her  arms  about  her  sweet  daughter,  placed  her  in 
the  auto  and  buzzed  out  into  the  city. 


a 

u 

o 

1-3 

N 

t 

o 

a 
M 

o 
o 


CHAPTER  X. 

HITTING  THE  HIGH  PLACES. 
(1922) 

Little  space  will  be  given  to  the  tour  of  Contin- 
ental Europe  since  the  purpose  of  these  pages  has 
been  to  linger  longer  on  those  spots  more  closely 
associated  with  our  Christianity. 

We  struck  a  storm  coming  from  Egypt  to  Italy. 
It  took  some  of  the  spunk  out  of  the  folks  and  made 
us  several  days  late  reaching  Brendizee.  We  were 
to  reach  this  port  at  late  afternoon  but  we  were 
2 :30  A.  M.  getting  there.  To  transfer  a  party  from 
a  steamer  thru  the  Customs  House,  get  rest  and 
sleep  for  them,  as  well  as  breakfast,  and  then  trans- 
fer bag  and  baggage  across  town  to  the  seven  o'clock 
train  for  Naples  all  in  four  hours  was  a  lively  time. 

After  leaving  Rome,  we  proceeded  north  to  Flo- 
rence. The  northern  section  of  Italy  is  very  beau- 
tiful. Florence  is  called  the  "Lily  of  the  Arno," 
and  this  fair  city  does  bloom  as  a  lily  on  the  banks 
of  the  river  Arno.  It  holds  some  of  earth's  most 
precious  treasurers  of  art  as  well  as  the  history 
of  many  of  the  world's  greatest  artists.  Elizabeth 
Barrett  Browning  lived  and  died  here  and  her  body 
rests  in  a  quiet  cemetery  in  the  town.  The  tomb 
of  the  great  Michael  Angelo,  who  designed  St. 
Peter's  Cathedral  is  in  the  beautiful  Cathedral  of 
Florence.  The  dust  of  Galileo  likewise  found  its 
resting  place  near  by. 


98  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD  WORLD 

But  Florence  is  noted  above  all  things  because 
it  was  the  home  of  the  great  preacher  Savonorola. 
Here  he  lived  and  here  he  hurled  with  the  fire  of 
John  the  Baptist  his  judgment  fires  against  the 
rulers  of  the  House  of  Medici,  the  rulers  of  that: 
Kingdom.  In  burning  messages,  as  bold  as  Nathan 
before  David,  and  John  before  Herod,  he  hurled 
the  truth  of  repentance  and  right  living  into  the 
face  of  sinful  rulers.  No  man  ever  set  himself 
more  against  the  sins  of  his  day,  and  like  John 
again,  his  head  was  the  price  of  the  sermons  he 
preached. 

We  stood  with  bared  heads  in  the  monastery 
where  this  mighty  man  of  God  lived,  and  looked 
on  his  books,  his  vestments  and  the  place  where 
he  prayed.  Then  we  went  to  the  tower  where  he 
was  imprisoned,  and  then  to  the  gallows  where 
he  died  and  the  spot  where  in  a  rage  they  burn- 
ed his  body  after  which  they  cast  his  ashes  on  the 
waters  of  the  Arno.  The  river  bore  the  ashes  to 
the  seas  and  the  tides  have  swept  them  on  thru 
the  years  all  the  while  singing  songs  of  the  bless- 
ings such  heroes  bring  the  world,  and  the  flames 
that  enrapt  his  body  have  shown  around  the  world 
and  by  this  light,  a  groping  race  has  seen  the  way 
to  the  cross. 

Then  we  went  in  the  chapel  of  the  Medici  where 
in  gorgeous  state  that  outshines  kjings,  the  vile 
rulers,  who  sinned  out  their  days  and  killed  the 
prophet  of  God,  were  laid  away  in  state.  There 
are  no  tombs,  mausoleums  and  monuments  in  all 
the  world  that  show  greater  wealth  and  art.    They 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  99 

were  canonized  while  Savonorola  was  ostracised. 
They  were  worshipped  while  he  was  burned.  They 
had  him  killed  because  they  had  the  power  and  they 
chafed  under  his  condemnation.  But  the  dieath 
angel  called  for  the  House  of  Medici  to  stand  be- 
fore the  Throne  while  their  proud  forms  were  en- 
cased in  perfumes  and  treasurers  where  as  the 
years  go  on,  men  behold  their  gorgeous  glory.  But 
brighter  than  the  light  that  shines  about  their 
tomb,  shines  the  light  of  the  Truth  from  the  soul 
of  Savonorola  as  thru  the  years  his  spirit  goes 
marching  on. 

From  Florence  we  went  to  Venice.  Most  cities 
have  many  things  in  common  but  they  also  have 
something  distinctive  that  puts  each  one  in  a  class 
by  itself.  Venice  is  in  a  class  all  alone.  She  has 
no  auto,  no  horse,  no  street  car.  Instead  of  board- 
ing an  auto  or  car  to  go  down  town,  you  step  from 
the  door  into  a  boat  and  glide  over  the  water.  We 
went  from  the  train  to  the  gondolas  near  by  and 
passed  down  the  grand  canal  by  famous  houses  of 
noted  artists,  glided  under  the  Bridge  of  sighs 
and  arrived  at  the  Royal  Danielli  hotel  which  was 
our  home  while  here.  Any  effort  to  picture  Venice 
as  she  is — "Queen  of  the  Adriatic" — would  be  doom- 
ed to  failure.  All  I  had  read  of  Venice  had  not 
pictured  it  as  it  is.  The  Venetians  are  handsome 
and  finely  dressed.  The  ravages  of  war  seem  not 
to  have  hurt  them  in  these  matters.  I  do  not  know 
how  so  many  of  them  get  enough  of  the  root  of  all 
evil  to  cut  such  a  swell.  Perhaps  their  main  trade 
is  skinning  tourists.  They  seem  to  spend  the  most 
of  their  time  dressing,  sporting  and  drinking. 


100  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

The  Rialto  in  Venice  s  a  noted  spot  made  fam- 
ous by  Shakespeare  in  "The  Merchant  of  Venice." 
Then  you  must  see  the  home  of  Robert  Burns  as 
well  as  the  Palace  of  the  Doges,  who  were  ancient 
rulers  of  Venice.  Here  you  will  be  overfed  on  art 
and  history,  and  will  declare  with  Mrs.  Sheba,  you 
didn't  realize  fifty  per  cent  of  it  all.  But  you  will 
soon  come  to  St.  Mark's,  one  of  the  greatest  cathe- 
drals of  the  world,  where  you  will  feed  the  pigeons 
and  admire  the  wonders  of  this  great  building.  St. 
Mark's  ranks  with  St.  Peter's  in  Rome,  St.  Paul's 
in  London  and  the  cathedrals  of  Florence  and  Milan, 
which  are  the  greatest  church  buildings  in  the 
world.  You  will  have  admiration  for  a  people  who 
build  such  temples  to  the  worship  of  their  God  even 
if  you  do  think  that  worship  staged  and  stilted. 

OVER   THE  ALPS   TO  SWITZERLAND. 

It  is  a  never  to  be  forgotten  trip  to  travel  from  Mil- 
an, Italy  to  Lucerne,  Switzerland.  We  left  Milan 
early  in  the  morning  and  reached  Switzerland  on  the 
lake  by  lunch.  I  am  sure  all  our  folks  will  long  re- 
member that  splendid  dinner  served  by  those  nice 
and  courteous  Swiss  girls.  This  meal  was  served  in 
true  home  style  and  was  more  in  that  class  of  the 
cooking  Mother  used  to  do.  For  often  in  these 
lands  do  you  eat  things  like  Mother  and  Grand- 
mother did  not  make. 

After  lunch,  we  boarded  the  boat  for  Lucerne, 
steaming  on  that  beautiful  lake  among  lofty  moun- 
tains clad  with  snow  rising  out  of  the  waters  of  this 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  101 

magic  lake.  I  have  seen  much  of  mountain  secenery 
and  know  we  are  likely  to  go  in  rapture  over  the 
last  thing  we  have  seen,  but  in  all  calm,  cool  judg- 
ment, I  register  my  opinion  that  there  is  no  moun- 
tain scenery  in  all  this  world  quite  as  charming 
and  beautiful  as  the  Alpine  scenery  about  the  lakes 
in  Switzerland.  As  we  sat  upon  the  deck  of  that 
boat  an  aeroplane  rose  and  soared  above  us  up  and 
out  around  the  snow  clad  mountains.  The  heavy 
timbered  mountains  green  with  life  and  charm  ran 
down  into  the  very  waters,  while  high  above,  the 
perpetual  snow  lay  heavy  on  the  summits  of  the 
lofty  peaks.  It  is  a  picture  unlike  any  other  we  had 
seen  or  could  see. 

We  reached  the  charming  city  of  Lucerne  on  the 
banks  of  the  lake  in  the  late  afternoon  and  found 
our  home  in  one  of  the  best  hotels  we  had  seen 
anywhere.  Everything  seemed  quiet,  beautiful  and 
far  removed  from  the  sinful  rabble  and  squabble 
of  the  world.  It  is  a  delightful  place  to  go  and 
stay  awhile  when  you  are  tired  and  threadbare  and 
want  to  find  your  way  back  to  nature  and  nature's 
God. 

It  seems  people  who  live  in  this  Swiss  country 
ought  to  be  noble  people  above  the  sordid  things  of 
a  sinful  life.  And  the  Swiss  are  a  hardy  rugged 
people  of  clean  life  and  strong  character.  They  are 
the  best  type  of  Continental  Europe.  It  is  a  wonder- 
ful thing  in  the  Swiss  history  that  when  all  the 
rest  of  the  world  went  mad  with  the  hydrophobia 
of  war  and  came  so  near  tearing  down  the  pillars 
of  civilization  on  its  head,  the  Swiss  nation  was 


102  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

the  only  country  that  did  not  go  crazy.  In  the 
midst  of  all  the  mad  ravages  of  war,  they  kept  out 
of  it  and  attended  to  their  own  business  at  home. 
They  have  no  navy  and  a  very  small  army  only  for 
police  duties.  This  is  the  most  powerful  example 
favorable  to  disarmament  and  peace. 

In  leaving  Switzerland,  we  passed  thru  some  more 
beautiful  country,  out  of  Switzerland  into  Alsace, 
which  was  one  of  the  bones  of  contention  and  which 
country  was  won  back  to  France  after  being  held 
by  the  Germans  since  1870. 

We  reached  Paris  late  at  night,  and  found  our  way 
to  the  St.  James  hotel.  We  spent  several  days  in 
Paris  keeping  busy,  seeing  al  the  wonders  of  this 
great  old  city.  To  remember  and  record  all  the  won- 
ders seen  in  Paris  would  overtax  the  descriptive 
powers  of  the  Queen  of  Sheba. 

I  climbed  to  the  top  of  the  Eiffel  Tower,  one  thou- 
sand feet  into  the  air  and  from  this  lofty  height 
looked  down  on  the  great  city,  stretching  along  the 
banks  of  the  River  Seine.  The  builder  of  this  great 
tower  was  told  he  could  not  build  such  a  thing  but 
he  did  it  and  for  a  time  lived  in  the  top  of  it. 

We  went  to  the  wonderful  art  gallery  of  the  Lou- 
vre and  saw  many  of  the  great  products  of  this 
noted  collection.  We  saw  the  car  in  which  the  ar- 
mistice was  signed  which  was  a  very  interesting 
relic  of  the  great  conflict.  We  saw  the  wonderful 
war  picture  painted  by  great  painters  to  reproduce 
and  save  the  history  in  a  great  picture  running  on  a 
great  canvas  all  around  a  large  ampitheater.  Al- 
most everyone  of  the  leading  characters  are  pre- 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  103 

served  in  life  size  natural  form  on  that  canvas. 
Whatever  glory  the  ancient  artist  may  deserve  for 
the  great  masterpieces  they  have  produced,  there  is 
nothing  that  surpasses  or  even  equals  this  great 
war  picture. 

We  saw  the  grave  and  tomb  of  the  great  Napole- 
on. His  war  trophies  and  many  conquered  war  flags 
and  banners  are  hanging  about  his  gorgeous  tomb 
to  tell  the  tale  of  the  mighty  deeds  of  the  little  Cor- 
poral when  he  was  marching  triumphant  over 
nations  and  bringing  the  world  cowering  at  his 
feet.  But  the  time  came  when  the  conqueror  was 
conquered.  No  matter  how  great  and  powerful  the 
conquering  monarch  may  be,  the  time  will  come 
when  he  will  be  conquered.  There  is  a  last  great 
foe  who  leads  the  conqueror  off  to  prison  and  defeat. 
There  are  solemn  lessons  of  life  and  death,  pomp 
and  power  that  comes  to  you  as  you  stand  beside 
the  tomb  of  the  mighty  Napoleon. 

We  also  visited  the  great  palaces  of  the  Louis 
and  Marie  Antoinette  at  Versailles  near  Paris.  It 
was  interesting  to  stand  in  the  midst  of  all  this 
splendor  and  review  the  tides  and  storms  of  the 
French  revolution.  You  see  where  poor  Marie  slept 
her  last  night  in  the  Palace  before  she  was  carried 
out  to  death  and  you  see  some  wonderful  furnishings 
and  products  of  art.  Here  Louis  XVI  and  Marie 
bankrupted  France  and  brought  on  the  destruction 
of  the  revolution  on  their  own  heads.  To  go  thru 
all  the  wonders  of  this  gorgeous  life  of  theirs  makes 
you  feel  that  Solomon  and  all  his  glory  was  surely 
second  place  compared  to  Louis  and  Marie.     They 


104  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD  WORLD 

put  themselves  above  God  and  claimed  to  own  and 
operate  the  State.  In  reality  they  were  themselves 
the  State.  Everything,  Royal  robes,  royal  chariots, 
crowns,  and  gold,  glitter  and  glamour,  finery  and 
splendor  of  millions  and  millions  of  dollars  expended 
to  enable  pampered  Royalties  to  entertain  thejir 
whims  is  a  staggering  tale  to  tell. 

But  the  end  of  all  the  gorgeous  and  extravagant 
glory  came.  They  pulled  down  the  pillars  of  this 
temple  of  splendour  on  their  own  proud  heads  and 
at  the  same  time,  they  almost  destroyed  the  whole 
fabric  of  the  nation's  life. 

As  we  stood  here  in  the  gardens  of  Marie,  we 
looked  upon  a  strip  of  woods  a  few  miles  away  where 
the  German  army  was  in  their  charge  on  Paris. 
This  brought  home  to  us  in  a  stern  vivid  reality 
how  near  the  Huns  came  of  over-powering  Paris. 

IN   BELGIUM. 

Leaving  Paris  we  caught  the  express  to  Brussels 
and  in  a  short  time  we  were  going  thru  the  war  zone. 
On  all  sides,  we  saw  the  ravages  of  the  brutal  Huns. 
The  bleak  ghostly  skeletons  of  ruined  houses  told 
the  tale  of  the  guns  that  wrought  ruin  on  this  fair 
country. 

It  did  not  take  us  long  after  lunch  to  reach  Brus- 
sels. The  capital  of  the  Belgians  is  a  large  and 
beautiful  city.  It  is  now  full  of  life  and  the  streets 
are  crowded  with  well  dressed  prosperous  folks. 
Whatever  havoc  the  war  wrought  in  Brussels,  there 
is  no  sign  of  it  now  to  the  passing  view. 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  105 

We  visited  the  King's  Palace,  Churches  and  other 
public  buildings  built  by  King  Leopold  and  others 
and  we  rode  out  to  the  barracks  and  stood  on  the 
spot  where  the  barbarous  Germans  murdered  Edith 
Cavil  for  doing  deeds  of  mercy.  Reverently  we 
stood  on  the  spot  where  they  shot  her  to  death  by 
order  of  the  German  brutes.  Here  also  they  mur- 
dered many  more  Belgians,  who  were  gulity  of  no 
other  crimes  than  that  of  being  patriots. 

We  took  one  day  for  an  auto  drive  thru  Flanders 
and  the  Belgium  battlefields.  The  ruin  of  war  is 
awful  and  indescribable.  It  is  easy  to  see  why  the 
boys  who  went  thru  it  have  so  little  to  say  about 
it  as  you  travel  along  and  picture  the  horror  of  the 
campaign. 

Everywhere  you  look  is  ruin.  All  the  trees  for 
miles  are  dead,  shot  down  by  shell  fire,  blown  up 
by  bombs  or  killed  by  gas.  Miles  and  miles  the 
land  is  in  trenches,  dug  outs  and  barb  wire. 

We  passed  one  hill  where  after  the  battle  260,000 
dead  bodies  were  found.  In  a  radius  of  forty  miles 
there  are  twenty-six  cemetries.  In  one  small  strip 
of  woods,  16,400  Germans  were  killed  and  in  another 
place,  we  saw  a  cemetery  where  7,500  German  bodies 
were  buried. 

We  ate  lunch  in  Ypres.  To  describe  the  ruin  of 
this  town  would  not  be  possible.  It  was  before  the 
war  a  prosperous  city  of  38,000.  Not  one  house 
was  left  standing.  The  church  was  shelled  and  de- 
molished while  the  people  were  at  worship  and  three 
hundred  and  ten  people  were  killed  in  the  wreckage. 


106  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

All  about  us  as  we  rested  here  at  lunch,  was  ruin 
and  debris  and  the  skeletons  of  buildings. 

We  also  visited  the  big  gun  placed  by  the  Germans 
to  shell  Dunkirk  twenty-four  miles  away.  This 
gun  is  still  standing.  It  cost  about  $7,000,000.00 
to  build  this  gun  and  $20,000.00  each  time  it  was 
fired.  This  big  gun  along  with  Big  Bertha  was 
intended  to  cause  panic  among  the  people  and  knock 
the  spirit  out  of  them.  People  can  never  rise 
above  their  spirit.  When  you  have  knocked  the 
spirit  out  of  folks,  you  have  conquered  them.  These 
big  guns  throwing  powerful  shells  many  miles  a- 
way  might  not  do  much  military  damage  but  they 
might  play  havoc  with  the  morale  and  the  spirit  of 
the  people.  But  herein  the  Germans  misjudged. 
The  Belgiums,  French  and  English  were  not  as  easily 
frightened  as  the  Huns  thought  they  were.  Such 
efforts  only  put  new  vim  and  life  into  the  allies  to 
fight  a  greater  fight. 

The  thing  that  impressed  me  most  was  the  won- 
derful ability  the  people  have  in  coming  back.  The 
progress  that  is  being  made  in  redeeming  the  sec- 
tion devastated  by  war  is  far  more  rapid  than  one 
would  think.  Already  much  of  the  war  salvage 
has  disappeared  and  the  country  is  being  speedily 
restored  to  its  normal  condition.  In  another  year 
the  destruction  wrought  will  almost  disappear  un- 
der the  heroic  efforts  of  these  brave  people  to  rebuild 
their  stricken  land. 

It  seems  such  a  blow  would  be  too  much  for  a 
people  to  overcome.  To  have  your  homes  destroyed, 
your  lands  ruined  and  many  of  your  friends  and 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  107 

loved  ones  killed  until  all  your  land  was  a  grave 
yard  would  seem  to  be  too  great  a  blow  for  a  people 
to  overcome  but  not  so  with  these  people.  With  a 
marvelous  courage  and  faith  they  have  thrown  all 
their  souls  into  the  rebuilding  of  their  land.  We 
saw  many  men  and  women,  who  were  employed  by 
the  Government  in  the  public  work  of  clearing  away 
the  ruin  of  war  and  restoring  the  public  buildings. 
For  a  small  wage,  they  thus  work  for  the  nation  all 
day  and  going  to  their  homes,  they  work  far  into 
the  night  and  are  there  soon  in  the  morning  clear- 
ing away  the  ruins  and  building  up  their  own  homes. 
Thus  out  of  the  ruin  of  their  own  country,  they 
are  rapidly  building  a  better  and  a  greater  country. 

Many  of  the  people  were  living  in  small  metal 
houses  furnished  by  the  Belgian  and  the  American 
Governments. 

All  the  people  were  working — men,  women,  chil- 
dren and  the  dogs — they  were  all  working  with  a 
vim  and  a  cheerfulness  in  restoring  their  land.  All 
along  the  country  roads  and  the  towns  and  village 
streets,  we  met  dog  carts  pulling  loads  and  burdens 
and  thus  contributing  their  part  to  the  rebuilding 
of  Belgium.  One  dog  was  trotting  along  pulling  a 
cart  in  which  was  a  man,  a  boy  and  seven  chicken 
crates  and  he  was  a  dog  of  ordinary  size. 

In  Ypres  amid  all  her  ruins,  there  was  a  stir,  a  buzz 
and  a  rush  as  everybody  worked  to  restore  the  city. 
Temporary  shops  had  gone  up  selling  refreshments, 
souvenirs  of  the  war  and  post  cards.  A  people 
with  a  courage  like  this  and  such  a  heart  of  hope- 
fulness cannot  be  kept  down,  but  soon  will  cause  to 


108  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD  WORLD 

bloom   in  the  ruins  of  their  stricken  country,  a 
greater  and  more  beautiful  country  than  ever. 

In  the  midst  of  the  wreck  and  ruin  of  Ypres,  I 
saw  a  baby  in  his  carriage.  He  was  cooing  his 
baby  coo  and  laughing  his  baby  laugh  and  as  I 
looked  on  him  in  his  strange  surroundings  I  was 
impressed  with  the  lesson.  He  represents  the  spirit 
of  Belgium,  the  spirit  of  life — the  spirit  which  will 
win.  He  is  happy  in  the  midst  of  wreck  and  woe.  He 
knows  and  cares  nothng  about  the  wreck.  He  is 
looking  forward  and  not  backward.  So  the  world 
will  look  on  and  forget.  The  hurts  will  be  healed. 
Babies  will  be  born,  who  will  know  naught  of  that 
awful  woe  and  the  vitality  of  the  race  will  make 
this  awful  curse  a  stepping  stone  to  higher  and 
better  things. 

IN   ENGLAND 

We  went  from  Brussels  to  Bruges  and  took  the 
boat  across  the  channel  to  Old  England.  It  was 
good  to  look  on  the  white  chalk  cliffs  of  Dover  and 
inspiring  to  take  that  interesting  ride  from  Dover 
to  London,  thru  that  beautiful  section  of  England. 

We  felt,  more  at  home  Hn  Ejngland  than  any 
place  we  had  been  because  we  were  among  our  kith 
and  kin  and  these  Britishers  were  our  real  cousins. 
From  these  historic  slopes  a  few  centuries  ago,  my 
sires  sailed  the  rolling  sea,  landing  in  Virginia  and 
South  Carolina,  thus  making  me  a  product  of  the 
New  World  and  not  the  Old. 

I  have  always  admired  the  mother  country  and 
her  mighty  civilization,  which  has  been  the  greatest 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  109 

government  of  the  world  if  we  measure  the  help  it 
has  been  to  other  nations.  The  English  have  their 
faults  plenty  of  them  if  we  go  fault  hunting  and  the 
same  may  be  said  of  us.  As  individuals  and  as  a 
nation,  they  make  blunders,  but  granting  all  this, 
the  English  Government  and  her  wonderful  coloni- 
zation has  been  a  great  blessing  to  the  world.  She 
has  had  a  genius  and  passion  for  building  up  and 
civilizing  the  world.  One  of  the  most  important 
thing  among  nations  is  a  friendship  and  bond  be- 
tween our  own  country  and  the  English.  Any  man 
in  either  nation,  who  is  doing  anything  to  cause 
a  breach  between  us,  is  a  menance  to  the  world's 
peace  and  a  blot  on  his  own  country.  The  English 
races  must  hold  the  world  together  and  save  it  if  it 
is  saved  and  the  greatest  calamity  that  could  come 
to  our  two  nations  as  well  as  to  the  rest  of  the 
world  is  for  a  breach  to  come  between  us. 

I  am  giving  my  own  impressions  formed  from 
my  visit  and  years  of  study  and  observation.  They 
may  or  may  not  be  accepted.  As  usual  they  are 
simple,  plain  and  frank.  I  confess  there  are  some 
things  about  my  British  cousins  that  strike  me  as 
funny.  Of  course,  they  are  slow  to  see  a  joke  and 
do  not  laugh  very  much.  It  may  be  they  haven't 
anything  to  laugh  at.  It  is  said  they  see  nothing 
funny  in  our  movie  comedies  of  knocking  a  man 
in  the  head  with  a  mallet  until  he  looks  like  a  fool 
and  throwing  custard  pies  in  the  face  of  innocent 
bystanders.  When  they  first  saw  these  things  that 
make  Americans  scream  with  hysterics,  it  is  said 
tiie  London  folks  looked  sad  and  were  sorry  for 


110  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

the  nut,  who  was  knocked  silly  and  the  fellow  who 
had  the  pie  thrown  in  his  face.  This  may  be  to  the 
credit  of  the  English  and  not  to  us.  They  still 
glory  in  literature  and  great  things  while  in  America 
now  a  real  artist  would  starve  while  the  biggest  fool 
became  a  multimillionaire. 

It  is  also  true  that  much  of  the  talk  the  English 
have  is  not  English.  It  is  about  as  hard  to  talk  to 
some  folks  in  London  as  it  is  in  Cairo.  They  seem 
to  chew  it  up  and  swallow  it  instead  of  spitting  it 
out  like  we  do.  You  will  not  recognize  your  mother 
tongue  in  many  places  when  you  go  out  to  buy 
some  trifle  and  are  told  the  price  is  "tippance"  or 
"thripence"  you  will  have  to  get  someone  to  tell 
you  they  mean  two  pennies  and  three  pennies. 

It  is  also  true,  they  are  over-loaded  with  dignity. 
A  cab  driver  in  London  and  a  hotel  porter  and 
waiter  can  put  on  more  dog  than  a  cabinet  member 
in  Washington  or  a  Governor  at  his  inauguration. 
The  clerks  in  many  of  the  stores  are  required  to 
wear  high  collars  and  long  tailed  coats  while  on 
duty.  The  plain  shirt  sleeve  Democratic  ways  and 
spirit  of  America  shocks  them  beyond  measure. 
They  need  some  how  to  be  shaken  out  of  their 
dignity.  There  is  nothing  on  the  earth  more  dig- 
nified than  a  London  policeman  unless  it  is  the  men 
who  guard  the  King's  Palace.  I  don't  know 
whether  these  officers  unlimber  in  a  riot  or  not.  The 
curse  of  the  country  is  their  craze  for  drink.  They 
are  drinking  themselves  to  death — far  too  many  of 
them.  The  custom  of  having  girls  as  bar  maids  to 
dispense  rum  and  lure  men  to  ruin  is  a  disgrace  on 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  111 

Great  Britain.  Multitudes  swarm  the  saloons  and 
beer  houses,  even  women  and  children.  Let  us  hope 
the  day  is  not  far  distant  when  a  better  day  will 
dawn  and  Old  England  will  redeem  herself  on  this 
point. 

Now  having  said  some  things  in  the  way  of  criti- 
cism about  the  mother  country,  let  me  speak  a  bit 
to  her  praise.  There  are  many  strong  and  great 
points  in  English  life  that  are  worth  noting.  I  was 
impressed  with  the  uniform  courtesy  and  politeness 
of  the  people  everywhere.  The  police  with  all  their 
stiffness  were  the  most  courteous  fellows  and  the 
most  willing  to  help  you.  Clerks,  porters,  waiters, 
and  all  the  folks  I  came  in  contact  with  showed  the 
same  type  of  kindness  and  good  breeding  that  was 
worthy  of  note.  This  brings  us  right  down  to  the 
rock  bottom  truth  we  must  recognize.  That  is  the 
English  blood  is  good  blood  and  the  English  train- 
ing is  good  training. 

I  did  not  hear  of  the  complaint  that  everywhere 
folks  were  trying  to  skin  you  and  take  advantage  of 
you  as  was  the  case  in  other  countries.  London  is 
a  busy  rushing  city  but  there  is  a  great  strong 
principle  and  character  in  the  people. 

They  are  looking  back  to  the  great  things  in  her 
illustrious  past  and  they  are  bringing  the  spirit  of 
that  past  into  her  present.  There  is  a  strong  relig- 
ious principle  in  the  English  race.  The  city  of 
London  was  on  Sunday  the  most  shut  up  and  Sab- 
bath observing  city  I  have  ever  seen.  There  is 
certainly  a  great  strength  in  a  nation  that  can  close 
up  a  city  on  the  Sabbath  that  way.    And  the  people 


112  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

are  church  people.  They  are  religious — I  believe 
more  religious  than  America.  Much  of  their  re- 
ligion is  the  English  Episcopal.  I  heard  them  preach 
a  good  many  times  and  while  I  always  had  to  take 
more  ceremony  than  I  wanted,  I  always  heard  a 
good  practical  sermon  and  I  always  found  a  large 
company  of  worshippers.  I  believe  the  church  life 
of  England  is  freer  from  rationalism  and  destruc- 
tive foolishness  than  the  church  life  of  America. 
I  have  profound  respect  for  the  religious  life,  train- 
ing and  teaching  of  Great  Britain  and  I  believe 
this  largely  accounts  for  the  greatness  as  a  people. 

It  was  our  privilege  to  drive  many  miles  out 
into  the  country  sections  of  England  and  study  the 
land  of  the  people  as  well  as  the  big  Metropolis. 
The  farms  and  country  sections  of  England  are 
wonderful  in  their  beauty  and  well  kept  state.  It 
was  a  great  privilege  to  see  the  fine  farms,  nice 
farmhouses,  splendid  villages  and  towns  and  every- 
where everything  spoke  of  a  very  high  order  and 
of  a  prosperous,  tasty,  thrifty  people. 

We  ate  lunch  one  day  at  the  quaint  and  charming 
town  of  Warwick  and  found  a  high  type  of  cultured 
people,  who  treated  us  in  the  kindliest  manner. 
We  visited  the  ruins  of  Kenilworth  Castle  made 
famous  from  the  novels  of  Walter  Scott  and  War- 
wick castle  linked  with  the  famous  Duke  of  War- 
wick so  noted  in  the  career  of  Queen  Bess. 

We  also  visited  Stratford  on  the  Avon,  the  home 
of  the  greatest  of  all  English  authors,  Wm.  Shake- 
speare. We  went  to  his  grave  in  the  church,  read 
the  original  record  of  his  baptism  and  his  marriage 


The  Surrender  of  Jerusalem  to  the  British.  The  Turkish 
Mayor  of  the  city  is  the  man  with  the  cane.  The  white  flag 
was  raised,  and  the  British  lads  advanced  to  escort  the  Mayor 
and  his  party  to  General  Allenby.  This  is  the  first  picture 
of  this  event  to  appear  in  America. 


TRAVELS   IN   THE  OLD  WORLD  113 

to  Ann  Hathaway  and  then  we  visited  the  birth 
places  of  Shakespeare  and  his  wife,  the  home  where 
they  lived  and  inspected  many  things  that  were  in 
the  home  as  it  was  in  their  day.  These  homes 
are  now  owned  and  managed  by  the  Government 
and  are  preserved  as  National  Museums.  They  gave 
us  some  very  interesting  examples  of  English  home 
life  habits  and  customs  in  the  days  of  our  ancestors. 
Over  one  hundred  thousand  people  visited  these 
homes  last  year  and  the  day  we  were  there,  the 
crowd  was  very  large,  which  shows  all  the  world 
has  not  gone  mad  over  fools  but  some  still  appre- 
ciate artists. 

We  took  another  trip  seven  ! miles  across  the 
Thames  to  Windsor  Castle  and  Hampton  Court.  The 
first  is  the  present  country  home  of  the  King  and 
Queen,  and  is  one  of  the  greatest  mansions  of  the 
world.  It  was  built  by  William  the  Conqueror  in 
1068  and  is  a  stately  castle  in  a  beautiful  setting. 
Hampton  Court  was  the  home  of  Henry  VIII,  the 
much  married  and  sinful  monarch  of  England.  He 
took  this  mansion  from  Cardinal  Woosley  by  force 
before  he  had  him  killed  and  occupied  it  himself. 
Anne  Bolyne,  one  of  the  wives  of  King  Henry, 
lived  here  and  it  is  said  her  ghost  still  remains  here. 

We  passed  Runnimede  Meadows  on  the  Thames 
where  King  John  signed  the  Magna  Charta  in  the 
eleventh  century  giving  the  world  the  great  consti- 
tution of  Freedom  and  Liberty. 

I  shall  not  be  foolish  enough  to  try  to  describe 
Saint  Paul's  or  Westminster.  These  are  two  of  the 
greatest  institutions  of  English  life.     St.  Paul's  is 


114  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

a  great  cathedral  of  the  Episcopal  church  and  is 
second  to  St.  Peter's — among  the  large  cathedrals 
of  the  world.  In  this  church  are  the  tombs  of 
many  of  England's  most  noted  men  and  women, 
among  them,  the  Duke  of  Wellington,  King  Charles 
the  First  and  King  Charles  the  Second,  Queen  Eliz- 
abeth, Queen  Mary,  General  Gordon,  known  as 
Chinese  Gordon.  It  was  he  who  discovered  the  real 
calvary  where  Jesus  was  crucified  and  the  real 
tomb  where  his  body  was  buried.  The  body  of  Sir 
Christophe  Wrenn  also  rests  in  this  noted  place. 
He  was  the  architect  and  designer  of  the  cathedral 
and  the  inscription  that  is  on  his  tomb  is  as  follows : 

"If  you  would  behold  his  monument  look  around 
you." 

Westminster  Abby  is  a  great  monument  in  the 
form  of  a  cathedral  but  used  rather  as  the  resting 
place  of  notables  than  a  place  of  worship. 

These  two  great  memorials  keep  constantly  be- 
fore the  british  the  greatness  of  their  illustrious 
dead.  There  is  something  impressive  and  ennobl- 
ing about  having  the  great  ones  of  a  nation's  life 
buried  where  all  their  tombs  may  be  easily  seen  and 
the  greatness  of  their  lives  kept  constantly  before 
you  rather  than  having  them  buried  in  unknown 
places  scattered  far  and  wide.  And  yet  there  comes 
to  you  often  a  feeling  that  you  are  too  much  among 
the  tombs  and  too  much  looking  back.  An  old 
country  with  a  long  and  glorious  past  may  be  in 
danger  of  living  too  much  in  that  past. 

In  taking  our  country  ride  to  Oxford  and  Strat- 
ford. I  was  impressed  with  the  strange  names  of 


TRAVELS   IN    THE   OLD   WORLD  115 

some  of  the  country  and  village  taverns  we  passed. 
A  few  of  the  names  were  as  follows — "White 
Horse",  "Red  Horse",  "The  Dog",  "The  Dog  and 
Gun",  "Red  Bull",  "Fat  Pig",  "Star  and  Garter", 
"Three  Sisters",  "Black  Boy,"  "The  Temperance 
Tavern,"  "The  Quiet  Woman".  Just  why  they 
have  such  odd  names  for  their  taverns  and  whether 
or  not  there  was  real  significance  in  the  names, 
I  did  not  learn. 

THE  ECCUMENICAL  CONFERENCE 

At  the  time  of  our  visit  the  Great  Eccumenical 
Conference  of  Methodists  was  in  session  in  Lon- 
don. Several  members  of  our  party  were  dele- 
gates to  the  conference  and  others  planned  to 
attend.  This  was  a  great  meeting  of  all  the 
Methodist  bodies  of  the  world.  At  one  session  a 
German  delegate  made  a  rousing  speech  pleading 
for  the  world  to  forget  and  forgive  Germany.  When 
he  finished  his  speech,  he  turned  to  an  American 
negro  and  hugged  him  while  a  southern  bishop 
led  the  singing  of  the  song,  "Blest  Be  The  Tie  That 
Binds." 


CHAPTER  XI. 
A  VISIT  TO  SMYRNA 

An  eighteen-hour  ride  on  the  Aegean  Sea,  by  is- 
lands that  were  old  before  our  country  had  written 
a  line  of  history,  brought  us  through  the  Dardanel- 
les from  Constantinople  to  the  bay  of  Smyrna.  The 
boat  was  rough,  the  odor  bad,  the  food  smacked  too 
much  of  goat  and  there  were  too  many  Turks  along ; 
but  above  all  this  were  the  soft  blue  skies,  below  us 
the  blue  waters,  and  all  about  us  that  wonderful 
heavenly  night  with  the  moonlight  upon  the  waters. 

I  shared  my  little  room  with  a  Methodist 
preacher,  a  Baptist  preacher  and  a  Mohammedan 
cat.  The  Baptist  and  the  cat  were  very  sea-sick 
and  kept  us  from  sleeping  well.  My  place  at  the 
table  was  between  two  Turks,  whose  main  diet  was 
a  big  bowl  of  spaghetti  cooked  with  an  abundance 
of  goat  grease.  There  didn't  seem  to  be  any  begin- 
ning or  ending  to  the  snaky  looking  dough.  They 
ate  it  by  suction.  Getting  their  mouths  near  enough 
to  the  dish  they  guide  it  with  a  spoon  and  keep  a 
perfect  stream  of  the  greasy  stuff  going  to  their 
mouths  like  cotton  in  the  cotton  mills  running 
through  the  spinners,  while  the  goat  grease  goes 
where  it  may.  I  was  reminded  of  the  Southern 
belle  of  dusky  color  who  informed  her  beau  at  sup- 
per that  she  did  not  like  to  eat  watermelons.  When, 
with  great  astonishment,  he  asked  the  reason  why, 
she  said,  "Cause  I  don't  like  to  git  de  juice  in  mah 
years."  Try  our  best,  we  could  not  eat  spaghetti 


TRAVELS   IN   THE  OLD  WORLD  117 

like  the  Turks.  It  is  a  distinct  privilege,  however, 
to  sit  between  two  and  see  them  eat  it,  especially 
when  you  have  seen  the  spaghetti  hanging  up  in 
the  back  yards  to  dry  where  it  is  made,  and  the  goat 
meat  that  is  cooked  with  it,  hanging  in  their  mar- 
kets. This  was  not  the  first  nor  the  last  time  we 
had  to  eat  what  was  set  before  us  and  ask  no  ques- 
tions for  conscience's  sake  and  other  reasons. 

Our  boat  cast  anchor  in  the  beautiful  harbor  of 
Smyrna,  and  we  prepared  to  go  ashore.  Several 
boats  from  different  nations  were  hung  up  at  the 
dock  and  we  had  to  stop  several  yards  from  the 
shore  and  be  transferred  by  little  row  boats.  It 
seemed  that  from  every  quarter  these  little  boats 
came — about  two  hundred  of  them — with  the  skill 
and  speed  of  birds  to  our  boatside,  while  their 
owners  set  up  an  awful  howl  and  jabber  as  they 
quarreled  with  one  another  for  the  best  positions 
and  called  to  us  at  the  top  of  their  voices  for  our 
patronage.  All  of  this  in  a  general  mixture  of 
broken  English — badly  broken — French  and  Ger- 
man at  the  rate  of  about  ten  per  cent.,  with  the  rest 
in  Arabic,  all  made  emphatic  with  jerks  and  ges- 
tures astonishing  to  see.  A  crowd  of  hungry  geese 
at  feeding  time  would  not  have  set  up  a  more  lively 
scramble  and  their  talk  would  have  been  as  much 
understood.  We  were  soon  landed  on  the  main 
street  that  runs  along  the  water  front,  where  a 
little  car,  drawn  by  donkeys,  seemed  determined 
to  run  over  us.  The  street  was  crowded  with 
camels  from  afar,  bringing  figs,  rugs  and  other 
native  products  to  the  sea  to  exchange  for  other 


118  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD  WORLD 

things  needed.  Nearby  was  the  fish  market  which 
needed  no  sign  to  advertise  itself;  also  the  packing 
places  for  the  celebrated  Smyrna  figs,  and  a  short 
distance  up  the  street  the  bazaars. 

One  of  the  greatest  things  in  the  East  is  the 
bazaars.  No  tongue  or  pen  could  justly  describe 
the  wonderful  sight  produced  by  this  great  mix- 
ture of  men  with  the  still  greater  mixture  of  native 
products,  all  blended  in  endless  confusion  of  styles, 
costumes  and  colors,  while  the  black  men  and  still 
blacker  men  (for  now  and  then  among  the  other 
hues  you  run  upon  a  Kafir,  Nubian,  or  a  Sudanese, 
black  enough  to  make  a  common  negro  look  pale), 
brown  men  and  yellow  men,  all  clattering,  jabber- 
ing, sputtering,  gurgling  sounds  at  you  which  vary 
in  sound  from  the  roar  of  a  lion  to  the  mixing  of 
a  Seidlitz  powder.  To  go  through  the  bazaars  of 
Smyrna.  Constantinople  and  Cairo,  to  be  pulled  and 
jerked,  sputtered  and  hissed  at  with  an  endless 
array  of  goods,  of  every  color  of  the  rainbow  and 
several  that  have  never  been  hung  up  in  the  sky, 
with  hundreds  of  figures  of  every  countenance  and 
costume  known  to  man,  on  exhibit  in  the  little  half- 
lighted  booths,  with  as  many  odors  as  they  have 
colors .  has  the  effect  upon  the  subconsciousness 
something  akin  to  the  jim  jams,  but  more  pleasant. 
In  these  famous  trading  places  you  can  buv  the 
finest  products  of  the  East  at  almost  your  own 
price. 

Smyrna  is  of  great  interest  to  the  traveler  be- 
cause it  has  long  been  the  second  great  city  of  the 
Turkish  Empire.     It  has  a  fine  location  and  from 


TRAVELS   IN   THE  OLD  WORLD  119 

any  point  of  view  produces  a  most  pleasing  impres- 
sion. Before  it  lies  one  of  the  greatest  harbors  of 
the  earth  and  on  beyond  the  blue  waters  of  the 
Aegean  Sea.  The  city  sits  upon  the  side  of  a  com- 
manding hill,  while  behind  it  are  great  and  im- 
posing mountains,  among  whch  old  Mt.  Pagus 
raises  his  lofty  head,  speaking  of  the  distant  time 
when  about  him  the  proud  old  city  surged,  while 
upon  his  crest  rested  the  crown  of  Roman  life  and 
glory.  Smyrna  claims  an  unbroken  history  of  three 
thousand  five  hundred  years,  and  is  now  one  of  the 
greatest  cities  of  the  country,  pouring  from  the 
regions  beyond  into  her  harbor  a  wonderful  stream 
of  commerce.  Another  great  honor  claimed  by 
Smyrna  is,  being  one  of  the  seven  cities  in  which 
Homer  was  born. 

But  the  point  of  greatest  interest  to  the  Chris- 
tian is  that  Smyrna  was  the  home  of  one  of  the 
Seven  Churches  of  Asia  to  which  God,  through 
Saint  John  on  the  Isle  of  Patmos,  not  far  away, 
sent  those  messages  which  were  to  come  with  light 
and  life  to  all  churches  for  all  time.  This  is  the  only 
one  of  the  seven  cities  in  which  those  early  churches 
were  located  that  is  great  and  prosperous,  the  others 
long  ago  having  gone  to  dust  through  the  wear  of 
the  ages  and  the  vandalism  of  man.  The  church 
at  Smyrna  claimed  another  distinction  in  that  it 
and  the  church  at  Philadelphia  were  the  only  two 
of  the  seven  that  received  only  words  of  praise 
in  those  letters.  In  all  the  others  when  the  good 
points  had  been  recounted  the  Almighty  voice  spoke 
to  the  Revelator  these  awful   words:   "Neverthe- 


120  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

less  I  have  somewhat  against  thee."  How  many 
churches  and  how  many  souls  our  Lord  will  thus 
address  when  he  writes  our  record  it  is  sad  to  con- 
template. When  God  spoke  the  good  deeds  of  the 
church  at  Smyrna  there  was  no  "nevertheless." 

You  surely  feel  linked  to  the  past  in  Smyrna. 
The  missionary  links  in  the  chain  of  the  years 
gone  and  the  Dark  Ages  glow  with  heaven's  light. 
You  are  at  the  site  of  the  church  of  Smyrna  with 
the  second  chapter  of  Revelations  before  you,  and 
the  history  of  Irenaeus,  who  was  bishop  at  the  close 
of  the  second  century.  He  was  the  pupil  of  Poly- 
carp,  bishop  of  the  church  at  Smyrna,  and  has 
written  things  about  him  that  have  come  down 
through  the  years  to  us.  Polycarp  was  the  disciple 
of  Saint  John  and  John  was  the  disciple  of  Jesus. 
So  that  morning  as  we  stood  in  Smyrna  we  felt 
otur  hands  were  holding  the  unbroken  chain  of 
history  back  to  Jesus,  which  gave  us  strange  feel- 
ings as  we  looked  at  the  links — Irenaeus,  Polycarp, 
John,  Jesus. 

It  was  here  in  the  market  place  of  the  city  one 
Saturday  afternoon  that  the  great  and  good  old 
Polycarp  was  fed  to  the  flames  when  the  devil  and 
his  angles  tried  so  hard  to  destroy  the  faith  of 
the  early  Christians  by  burning  their  bodies.  Little 
did  they  think  those  martyr  fires  were  starting  a 
light  that  would  outshine  the  stars,  and  that  by 
the  aid  of  that  light  that  shone  on  the  world  of 
sin  and  darkness  so  many  souls  would  be  able  to 
see  the  face  of  Christ.  They  wrought  more  for 
the  Lord  in  their  death  than  they  could  possibly 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD  WORLD  121 

have  done  in  their  lives.  Truly  does  the  Scripture 
speak  of  all  such  "Of  whom  the  world  was  not 
worthy."  Polycarp  was  offered  freedom  if  he 
would  deny  his  Lord.  The  old  saint's  answer  was, 
"Eighty  and  six  years  have  I  served  Him  and  He 
has  done  me  no  ill;  how,  then,  can  I  blaspheme 
my  King  who  has  saved  me?"  He  fed  the  soldiers 
who  came  to  take  him  and  requested  of  them  an 
hour  for  prayer.  As  they  saw  him  praying  a  strange 
awe  came  over  them  and  they  repented  they  had 
arrested  him,  but  led  him  to  the  Roman  Court, 
which  sentenced  him  to  death.  They  burned  him, 
and  his  friends  gathered  up  the  old  man's  ashes 
and  buried  them,  overlooking  the  beautiful  bay. 
Heathen  Turks  tramp  the  sacred  spot,  crying, 
"Polycarp  toomba'  backsheesh"  (all  they  know  of 
English),  little  knowing  what  that  spot  means  to 
the  Christian's  heart. 

The  church  of  Smyrna  is  gone.  The  congrega- 
tion is  gone.  The  Turks  hold  forth  where  the  glori- 
ous light  of  this  spotless  church  shone  long  ago. 
But  the  faith  they  had  is  not  dead.  The  flowers 
they  planted  have  not  withered,  nor  is  the  vine 
they  planted  by  the  wall  of  that  church  blighted. 
Across  many  seas  and  into  many  lands  the  fra- 
grance and  the  fruit  of  that  early  religion  has  gone 
and  lives  to  the  glory  of  God.  Standing  in  these 
ruins  where  heathenism  has  followed  Christianity, 
some  ask,  "Isn't  religion  a  failure?"  Because  the 
sun  goes  down  does  it  go  out?  It  goes  beyond 
our  vision  to  shine  on  the  other  lands,  and  so  the 
Sun  of  Righteousness  went  beyond  the  view  of  some 


122  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

of  those  people  who  would  not  open  their  eyes  to 
His  saving  light  but  the  light  of  that  sun  did  not  go 
out.  On  those  people  who  open  their  eyes  to  His 
light  He  is  shining  with  ever-increasing  splendor, 
and  there  is  healing  in  His  light. 

One  of  my  favorite  texts  to  preach  from  has  long 
been  Rev.  2:10,  "Be  thou  faithful  unto  death  and 
I  will  give  thee  a  crown  of  life."  My  visit  to  the 
Bible  lands  opened  many  texts  in  ways  I  never 
dreamed  of,  and  this  was  one  of  them.  This  text 
was  to  the  church  at  Smyrna.  All  the  commercial 
and  social  glory  that  crowned  Mt.  Pagus  in  the 
height  of  her  Roman  splendor  made  Smyrna  appear 
as  the  queen  of  the  world  sitting  on  her  throne 
above  the  sea.  So  the  ancients  regarded  her.  They 
referred  to  her  crown  of  life  and  glory.  If  the 
Roman  life  of  that  city  could  be  called  a  crown, 
what  a  crown  the  life  to  come  would  be  to  those 
in  the  church  at  Smyrna  who,  in  the  persecutions  to 
follow,  were  faithful  unto  death!  How  that  life — 
pure,  endlless,  sinless,  painless — compares  with  the 
life  of  Rome  at  her  highest!  What  an  exchange, 
death  for  life ;  Smyrna  for  heaven !  But  I  will  just 
mention  the  fact  and  not  preach  the  sermon. 

Being  very  anxious  to  visit  all  the  scenes  of  this 
sacred  history  in  and  beyond  the  city,  we  soon  had 
a  dozen  carriages  in  line,  driven  by  as  many  treach- 
erous looking  Turks,  and  drawn  by  horses  small 
and  ugly,  but  tough  and  fast.  It  is  amazing  how 
much  hard  driving  and  rough  treatment  these  little 
horses  will  stand.  The  Turks — in  fact  nearly  all 
the  drivers  we  saw — have  a  recklessness  and  speed 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  123 

in  their  driving  that  would  make  Jehu  take  a  back 
seat.  Numbers  of  times  we  held  our  breath  and 
closed  our  eyes  as  we  furiously  drove  through  nar- 
row streets  crowded  with  venders,  camels,  donkeys, 
people  and  dogs,  and  through  the  whole  summer, 
with  many  hairbreadth  misses,  we  had  only  two 
minor  accidents.  In  Athens  we  upset  a  fruit 
peddler  with  no  damages  save  a  few  spilt  apples  and 
lingual  explosion  that  sounded  like  a  pot  full  of 
Heroditus,  Livy  and  Modern  Eloquence  boiling  over. 
The  other  was  in  Damascus,  in  the  street  called 
Straight,  where  through  the  crowded  market  and 
hundreds  of  dogs,  we  made  schedule  time  with  no 
mishap  save  running  over  the  left  hind  leg  of  one 
of  the  Sultan's  Fidos.  It  should  be  remembered 
that  these  European  carriages  are  almost  the  only 
wheeled  vehicles  found   in  Turkey  and  Palestine. 

Up  the  narrow,  crowded  street  of  Smyrna  our 
carriages  went  for  Mt.  Pagus.  The  streets  are 
only  a  few  feet  wide  and  are  full  of  venders,  basket- 
makers,  shoemakers,  coppersmiths,  etc.,  the  most 
of  whom  sit  flat  upon  the  ground.  Our  horses 
dashed  along,  sometimes  brushing  against  them, 
but  they  seemed  too  busy  or  too  lazy  to  notice  us. 
Streams  of  dirty  beggars  of  every  age  followed  us 
with  the  cry  of  "backsheesh,"  which  is  ever  in  your 
ears! 

Deep  in  thought  and  meditation  of  the  sacred 
history  born  here,  we  almost  forgot  the  degrada- 
tion about  us.  Higher  we  climbed  until  we  had  a 
wonderful  view  of  the  city  below  with  the  ships 
of  many  nations  swinging  on  their  anchors  at  her 


124  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

quay  and  the  waters  of  the  Aegean  Sea  stretching 
on  until  they  touched  the  blue  Mediterranean.  To 
our  left  herds  of  goats  browsed  about  the  base  of 
the  old  Roman  bridge,  over  which  the  splendor  of 
the  empire  went  in  the  days  of  Jesus.  Up  ahead  of 
us  was  the  site  of  the  church  of  Smyrna  and  still 
beyond  the  tomb  of  Polycarp.  Our  little  horses 
settled  down  to  their  up-hill  pull  while  we  settled 
still  deeper  into  meditation.  The  beautiful  morn- 
ing, and  the  sacred  scenes  made  a  day  seldom 
equalled  in  a  lifetime.  But  how  soon  were  we  to 
be  served  with  one  of  those  sudden  changes  these 
folks  thrust  upon  you  as  they  sweep  you  through 
centuries  of  time  from  the  things  that  used  to  be 
to  the  things  that  now  are. 

In  the  midst  of  our  deepest  and  most  profitable 
meditations  some  of  the  horses  balked — how  many 
I  don't  know.  Really  I  am  not  sure  that  any  balked 
at  all — anyway  that  or  something  else  caused  us 
to  presently  be  served  free  of  charge  with  one  of 
the  greatest  shows  which  in  all  my  life  I  have  ever 
seen  or  heard.  I  would  give  a  good  price  if  I  had 
the  power  to  produce  with  word  or  pen  or  motion 
picture  what  followed.  I  hesitate  to  try,  for  I  know 
I  will  fall  so  far  short  of  doing  it  justice.  I  am 
sure  no  member  of  our  party  can  ever  forget  it, 
but  all  will  ever  consider  it  one  of  the  richest  ex- 
periences that  was  ours — something  that  was  not 
on  the  regular  program  and  for  which  there  was  no 
extra  charge  whatever. 

Our  carriages  all  came  to  a  standstill,  and  the 
Turkey  drivers  began  to  gobble  at  one  another  and 


TRAVELS   IN   THE  OLD   WORLD  125 

make  signs.  At  first  it  was  mild  and  slow,  but 
soon  the  grindings  and  the  gratings  that  came  from 
their  throats  grew  faster  and  louder,  while  gesticu- 
lations, gyrations  and  contortions  became  more 
violent,  increasing  every  second  in  rapidity  and 
force.  They  let  go  their  lines  and  stood  up  that 
they  might  be  freer  to  practice  their  bodily  and 
guttural  performances,  all  of  which  increased  in 
volume  and  movement  like  a  gasoline  engine  getting 
under  way.  Presently  they  all  went  down  upon 
the  ground  where  they  could  have  still  more  room 
and  get  at  one  another  better.  They  met  face  to  face, 
and  growled  at  one  another  until  their  eyes,  aflame 
with  Satanic  fire,  seemed  to  bulge  from  their  heads. 
Their  faces  were  so  contorted  that  their  noses,  eyes, 
ears  and  mouths  seemed  to  rapidly  change  places 
like  the  letters  of  an  electric  sign  on  the  street  in 
the  night.  They  trembled,  stamped  their  feet, 
rubbed  their  fists  in  one  another's  faces.  They 
stood  straight  up,  with  their  hands  and  faces  lifted 
high  toward  heaven,  calling  upon  their  God  with 
more  vehemence  than  the  prophets  of  Baal  on  Mt. 
Carmel.  Then  they  went  down  upon  the  earth  and 
projstrated  themselves  with  their  faces  near  the 
earth  and  the  palms  of  their  hands  upon  the  ground, 
and  prayed.    Then  they  arose  and  swore. 

It  will  help  to  picture  this  scene  when  you  think 
of  the  pants  these  Turks  wear.  It  seems  they  can't 
be  mean  enough  in  their  nature  and  conduct,  but 
must  add  to  it  by  these  abominable  clothes.  Their 
pants  are  full  in  the  hips,  with  legs  dwindling 
down  on  the  mutton-leg  plan,  until  they  are  tight  at 


126  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

the  ankles  with  a  seat  that  bags  down  about  two 
feet.  It  is  the  most  grotesque  costume  ever  de- 
signed by  the  children  of  men.  The  actions  of  these 
fellows  in  those  breeches  was  something  not  soon 
forgotten.  This  went  on  until  every  condition 
known  to  the  body  had  been  gone  through  with, 
while  all  the  time  a  noise  as  loud  as  lungs  and 
throats  could  make  it  rolled  from  their  throats  with 
a  swiftness  that  would  make  an  auctioneer  or  a 
lady  at  a  tea  party  green  with  envy.  This  stuff 
could  not  have  been  talk.  They  could  not  have  un- 
derstood one  another.  A  cat  serenade  in  the  back 
yard  at  midnight  was  Shakespearean  rhetoric  com- 
pared to  this.  Mark  Twain  said,  when  he  heard 
cats  fighting  at  night,  it  wasn't  the  fuss  that 
bothered  him,  but  the  fact  that  "they  used  such 
miserable  bad  grammar."  If  catawailing  is  bad 
grammar,  I  don't  know  what  this  was.  It  varied  in 
sound  from  the  boiling  of  mush  to  the  grinding  of 
glass,  with  constant  explosions  from  their  internal 
regions  as  though  they  had  swallowed  several  packs 
of  firecrackers  each  and  they  were  going  off. 

Why  they  were  thus  giving  their  attention  to 
one  another  and  not  to  the  horses,  if  they  had 
balked,  was  strange,  and  led  us  to  think  the  horses 
had  not  balked.  And  yet,  if  that  was  not  the  case, 
I  don't  know  what  it  was.  The  whole  thing  will 
remain  a  mystery.  Some  thought  it  was  a  little 
side  show  they  were  serving  to  us  with  the  hope 
of  some  extra  backsheesh.  Others  thought  it  was 
a  plot  to  get  us  out  of  the  city  in  this  lonely  place 
and  rob  us,  and  they  were  merely  debating  how 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  127 

they  should  proceed  and  how  they  would  divide  us 
up.  When  this  theory  was  advanced,  some  of  our 
men  became  alarmed  and  our  ladies  began  to  cry. 
As  for  me,  I  did  not  think  of  danger.  I  forgot  all 
about  the  sacred  spot  and  its  history.  I  almost 
forgot  who  I  was  and  where  I  was.  I  could  not  even 
be  a  knight  to  the  hysterical  ladies.  I  sat  back  in 
that  carriage,  looking  upon  the  greatest  circus  I 
had  ever  seen,  and  it  was  not  costing  me  a  cent. 

After  awhile,  about  the  tomb  of  Polycarp,  I  tried 
to  brush  all  these  things  away  and  enter  into  the 
spirit  I  expected  to  find  up  there.  I  often  close 
my  eyes  and  stand  there  again.  I  see  Mt.  Pagus 
and  the  city  below,  the  boats  in  the  harbor  and  the 
blue  sea  beyond.  I  see  the  teeming  life  of  Rome 
in  the  height  of  her  glory  surging  about  that  proud 
old  city.  I  see  Polycarp  going  to  the  flames.  I 
see  the  messengers  coming  from  Patmos  with  John's 
letter  to  the  church  at  Smyrna.  I  see  the  angel 
coming  down  from  heaven  with  the  crown  of  life 
to  put  upon  the  heads  of  those  who,  in  the  midst 
of  trials  we  can  never  realize,  were  faithful  unto 
death. 

At  other  times  in  other  moods  I  close  my 
eyes  to  things  about  me  and  see  that  circus  again, 
and  I  cannot  keep  from  wishing  I  could,  by  tongue 
or  pen  or  artist's  brush,  put  it  in  a  living  picture. 
When  the  performance  was  at  its  height  our  horses 
started  to  run  with  all  their  might,  without  any 
drivers  to  stop  them.  I  had  listened  to  some  strange 
thing  they  often  said  to  the  horses,  and,  realizing 
something  had  to  be  said  and  done,  I  yelled  at  the 


128  TRAVELS  IN   THE  OLD  WORLD 

horses  as  nearly  as  I  could  that  thing  I  had  heard 
them  say.  I  don't  know  how  near  I  came  to  it. 
I  don't  know  whether  I  was  swearing  or  not,  or 
whether  I  was  praying  to  Mohammed,  but  it 
answered  the  purpose,  the  horses  stopped,  and  we 
got  the  lines  and  held  them  until  the  performance 
was  over. 

When  we  reached  the  boat  our  ladies  fixed  their 
hair  and  otherwise  adjusted  their  disordered  looks 
as  they  almost  cried  again  for  joy,  while  the  men 
smiled  and  sighed  for  the  same  reason.  Some  lady 
said  to  our  guide:  "Oh,  wasn't  it  awful?  Did  you 
ever  see  anything  like  it?"  The  guide  looked  at 
her  with  a  smile  and  said,  "Madam  I  have  been 
going  through  that  every  day  for  twenty  years." 


CHAPTER  XII. 
ON  MARS'  HILL. 

Leaving  Smyrna  our  boat  turned  her  nose  across 
the  Mediterranean  to  the  land  of  Egypt.  That 
cruise  on  that  wonderful  body  of  water  so  rich 
in  history,  those  glorious  days,  and  soft  summer 
nights,  will  never  be  forgotten. 

We  spent  a  day  in  Athens,  landing  in  the  harbor 
five  miles  away  and  took  the  car  for  that  city — 
great  in  the  days  that  are  gone.  We  were  struck 
with  the  difference  in  things  here  and  in  Turkey. 
We  saw  about  us  more  thrift,  intelligence  and 
decency,  also  more  kindliness  and  friendliness 
toward  foreigners. 

We  took  carriages  from  modern  Athens  up  the 
hill  to  the  site  of  the  Athens  that  used  to  be,  and 
it  was  truly  an  upward  way.  On  top  of  these  com- 
manding hills  stands  the  ruins  of  this  great  city 
of  culture  and  learning.  Even  a  feeble  imagination 
can  paint  a  thrilling  picture  of  those  people  and 
those  days  as  one  looks  from  this  big  hill  that  rises 
above  its  fellows,  giving  a  fine  view  of  the  sea  and 
the  hills  behind,  while  all  around  are  ruins,  some 
crumbling  back  to  earth  while  others  stand,  and 
when  a  multitude  of  generations  still  have  come 
iand  gone  will  still  be  standing  the  dash  of  the 
winds  and  the  roar  of  the  storms.  To  look  upon 
these  massive,  majestic  ruins  makes  you  feel  that 
the  worldly  culture  of  this  age  is  hardly  stand- 
ing on  the  same  platform  with  those  days.     The 


130  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

Acropolis,  the  Stadium,  the  Theatre  of  Dionysius, 
the  Temple  of  Zenus,  and  the  Parthenon,  stand- 
ing here  when  centuries  have  past,  are  still  mar- 
velous monuments  of  the  boldness  and  skill  of  Peri- 
cles, the  builder,  aided  by  the  genius  of  Phideas, 
the  sculptor,  and  Ictinis  and  Mnesicles,  the  archi- 
tects. The  ruins  and  the  museum  full  of  relics  of 
the  greatness  of  those  days  are  so  overpowering 
that  I  feel  powerless  to  describe  them,  and  shall 
not  undertake  the  task.  We  looked  upon  the  finest 
sculpture  of  the  world  and  emblems  of  life  thou- 
sands of  years  old  that  looked  as  modern  as  any- 
thing tihe  world  can  show  to-day.  The  dress  and 
the  ornaments  of  the  ladies,  as  far  as  design  and 
art  goes,  looked  like  they  were  just  from  a  modern 
shop. 

My  mind  and  heart  soon  found  their  way  through 
all  the  ruins  of  Grecian  glory  to  two  spots  that 
have  always  stood  out  as  the  two  most  important 
places  in  these  great  ruins.  One  was  the  grave  of 
Socrates.  It  makes  the  heart  leap  faster  to  look 
through  the  bars  to  the  grave  of  that  old  philoso- 
pher who  drank  the  hemlock  and  left  this  world, 
because  long  before  the  man  of  Galilee  had  walked 
the  hills  of  earth  on  His  mission  of  Gospel  and  Life, 
this  enquiring  mind  and  hungry  heart  had  grasped, 
even  though  faintly,  the  life  that  gleamed  beyond 
the  hills  he  walked  upon,  and,  single-handed,  in 
that  old  market  place,  fought  for  his  new  faith, 
and  when  they  had  overwhelmed  him,  refused  to 
renounce  the  new  light  he  had  seen  and  gave  his 
life  to  pay  the  price  of  his  faith.    Perhaps  the  life 


TRAVELS  IN  THE  OLD  WORLD  131 

of  Athens  dropped  at  once  into  its  usual  channels 
and  moved  on  unhindered,  glad  that  the  silly  Socra- 
tes was  gone ;  but  how  much  greater  was  that  idea  to 
grow  than  all  those  philosophers  had  ever  dreamed ! 

The  next  place  my  heart  turned  to  was  Mars 
Hill,  and  climbing  to  its  crest  as  nearly  as  can  be  de- 
termined, where  Paul  stood  when  he  made  his 
speech  to  the  Athenians — one  of  the  greatest 
speeches  the  world  ever  listened  to — with  my  Bible 
in  my  hand  I  read  the  seventeenth  chapter  of  Acts. 
Clearly  rose  the  picture  before  us.  There  was  the 
market  place  where  the  gentlemen  of  proud  Athens 
gathered  to  discuss  the  issues  of  their  minds  and 
propound  questions  one  to  another,  since  they  had 
no  papers  and  magazines  to  write  for  and  to  read. 
(This  custom  still  exists  in  many  places  and  it  has 
some  good  features.)  They  were  ever  after  some 
new  thing,  and  every  new  thing  in  religion  or  any- 
thing else  they  could  find  they  brought  it  as  a  trophy 
and  added  it  to  their  collection.  They  had  intro- 
duced all  the  gods  they  could  find  and  had  erected 
altars  to  them. 

One  day  a  little  man,  buffeted  and  storm-tossed, 
was  conducted  by  some  kind  friends  into  this  great 
city.  The  world  had  served  him  rough.  He  re- 
ceived no  welcome  on  land  or  sea,  for  the  waves 
tried  to  swallow  him  and  the  hills  engulf  him.  He 
was  a  little  weather-beaten,  wiry,  unattractive 
looking  man.  No,  there  was  something  so  odd, 
unnatural  and  strange  about  him  that  it  made  him 
wonderfully  attractive.  He  was  accused  of  turn- 
ing the  world  upside  down,  but  he  didn't  look  like 


182  TRAVELS   IN   THE  OLD  WORLD 

he  could  do  it.  His  hands  were  swarthy  and  tough 
looking,  but  they  didn't  look  like  they  could  turn 
a  tent  upside  down,  much  less  the  world.  But  he 
was  like  old  Socrates  whose  body  went  to  dust  just 
across  the  way,  he  had  an  idea  and  it  was  this  idea 
that  was  turning  the  world  and  regions  under  the 
world  upside  down.  It  is  ideas  and  not  hands  that 
turn  the  world  upside  down  now  and  then.  Ideas 
were  in  great  demand  in  the  market  place  in 
Athens.  These  gentlemen  of  Athens  spread  them 
out  like  traders  do  their  wares  and  looked  them 
over.  They  turned  them  over  in  their  hands, 
mashed  them  to  see  if  they  were  sound,  smelled 
them  and  scrutinided  all  their  fibres. 

They  ran  constantly  to  their  bargain  counters, 
bringing  and  taking  away  some  new  thing.  They 
were  afflicted  with  that  disease  that  crept  in  Eden 
and  has  never  left  us.  It  is  "Newitis,"  a  burning 
fever  for  some  new  thing.  Eve  caught  it  and  turned 
her  face  from  the  Tree  of  Life  to  the  Tree  of  Know- 
ledge, because  already,  though  she  had  been  there 
such  a  little  while,  the  Tree  of  Life  was  getting 
stale,  and  the  Tree  of  Knowledge,  which  the  devil 
had  just  called  her  attention  to,  was  new.  The 
child  is  born  with  this  disease,  and  as  fast  as  his 
baby  hands  can  catch  things  he  throws  them  down 
because  they  are  old,  and  reaches  up  for  more  be- 
cause they  are  new.  So  before  breakfast  is  ready 
on  Christmas  morning  all  the  invention  of  Santa 
CIpus  for  a  year  has  grown  stale  to  him.  Ladies 
have  "Newitis,"  so  they  must  have  new  clothes.  No 
matter  how  good  a  dress  and  a  hat  may  be,  if  they 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  133 

have  been  worn  a  few  times  and  the  eyes  of  the 
saints  have  seen  them,  they  are  old,  and  new  ones 
are  very  much  desired.  If  you  throw  pigs  a  thou- 
sand ears  of  corn  they  will  bite  each  one  once  and 
hasten  on  the  next  one  in  search  of  something  new. 
Not  that  I  intended  to  put  the  ladies  and  the  pigs 
in  the  same  class,  but  that  I  was  only  illustrating 
the  disease. 

So  one  morning  an  Athenian,  climbing  up  the 
shining  way  to  the  Acropolis  with  the  fevers  of 
"Newitis"  burning  in  his  blood,  chanced  to  see  a 
crowd  about  the  Jewish  synagogue,  and  thinking 
here  was  something  to  feed  the  hunger  he  had  and 
give  him  a  choice  morsel  of  gossip  to  carry  to  the 
market  place,  he  turned  aside.  He  heard  Paul 
preaching  to  the  Jews  about  one  named  Jesus  who 
was  crucified  in  Jerusalem  and  arose  again  from 
the  dead,  thereby  proclaiming  to  those  who  followed 
him  that  they  should  do  the  same.  The  Athenian 
threw  back  his  head  and  laughed.  His  heart  beat 
faster,  his  eyes  shone,  he  quickened  his  pace  up  the 
shining  way  along  the  sculptured  path  to  the  place 
where  ideas  were  exchanged,  for  he  had  one  that 
was  new,  and  he  was  anxious  to  get  there  with  it 
before  all  others.  When  he  broke  into  the  circle 
of  idea  venders  they  saw  from  his  looks  and  his 
movements  he  had  been  out  on  a  hunt,  and  had 
made  a  new  catch.  So  they  gave  way  for  him.  He 
at  once  spread  before  them  the  idea  he  had  found, 
and  a  number  of  them  ran  down  the  sculptured 
marble  way  on  the  hunt  for  Paul  like  a  crowd  of 
boys  go  out  for  the  man  with  a  monkey.     They 


134  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

got  him,  and  as  the  gathering  crowd  grew  larger 
they  pushed  him  along  until  they  reached  the 
Areopagus,  and  here  in  this  out-door  court  where 
Greece  heard  and  passed  judgment  on  all  things, 
the  apostle  of  the  Gentiles  got  upon,  perhaps,  this 
very  knoll  where  I  stood,  with  his  speech  in  my 
hand.  The  heavenly  fire  of  Paul  and  the  marble 
philosophy  of  Athens  had  met,  and  throughout 
history,  when  heavenly  fire  and  marble  philosophy 
have  come  together,  the  marble  has  been  left  in 
ruin  and  the  fire  has  gone  on. 

The  great  speech  was  made.  No  time  was  lost 
in  elaborate  preliminaries  or  silk-spun  flowery  in- 
troductions. Paul  went  to  the  point.  He  never 
had  time  for  long  introductions  and  conclusions. 
He  never  spends  any  time  getting  ready  or  closing 
up.  "Ye  men  of  Athens,"  he  said,  "in  all  things  I 
perceive  that  ye  are  very  religious.  For  as  I  passed 
along  and  observed  the  objects  of  your  worship  I 
found  also  an  altar  with  this  inscription :  *  To  the 
Unknown  God1  (How  that  dart  of  irony  and  sar- 
casm went  home!)     (Acts  17:22-31.) 

How  that  speech  must  have  fallen  upon  their 
proud  ears !  What  a  mighty  thrust  it  was  at  all  their 
traditions,  superstitions  and  philosophies!  Here 
were  new  ideas  for  them.  They  had  something  to 
chew  over  now.  They  could  herald  the  new  faith 
of  this  man  far  and  wide.  But  strange  to  say  they 
got  mad.  The  world  has  always  been  so.  When 
Divine  Truth  sweeps  the  foundations  from  devils 
and  men  they  get  mad.  There  is  nothing  else  to  do. 
When  logic  fails,  wisdom  answers  not  and  the  pride 


TRAVELS   IN  THE  OLD  WORLD  135 

of  the  world  parts  not  its  lips,  it  is  time  to  get 
mad.  Sometimes  a  sage  cannot  answer  a  question, 
but  any  two  penny  fool  can  get  mad  about  it. 
No  matter  how  cool  and  quiet  Divine  Truth  is, 
when  it  comes  into  the  presence  of  the  devil  the 
devil  gets  mad.  Jesus  never  did  an  unkind,  unjust 
or  unmanly  thing.  He  was  as  gentle  as  a  lady,  as 
free  from  ill  as  an  angel,  but  He  made  the  devil's 
angels  so  mad  they  killed  Him.  The  drowning  of 
the  hogs,  the  healing  of  the  sick,  raising  of  the 
dead,  and,  worst  of  all,  forgiving  sins  and  preach- 
ing a  resurrection,  made  the  devils  so  mad  that  the 
volcanoes  of  perdition  belched  forth  their  age-long 
accumulations  of  vileness.  So  Athens  got  mad  with 
Paul. 

While  the  greatness  of  the  world  goes  down  the 
light  of  the  Gospel  goes  on.  The  old  Athens  has 
passed  away,  its  glory  is  dimmed,  and  its  sun  is  set. 
These  great  ruins  stand  as  the  lasting  monument  of 
the  great  minds  of  a  great  race,  but  all  these  things 
exist  only  as  shadows.  At  great  labor  and  expense 
they  wrought  to  build  their  monuments,  but  they 
are  gone.  How  few  souls  on  earth  to-day  know  of 
Pericles,  the  builder?  And  when  you  name  Phidias, 
the  sculptor,  and  Ictinis  and  Mnesicles,  the  archi- 
tects of  Athens,  not  one  man  in  a  hundred,  long  out 
of  college,  can  tell  you  who  they  were  without  run- 
ning to  the  Encyclopedia  or  the  Greek  Professor. 

But  who  doesn't  know  the  Apostle  Paul  ?  He  built 
no  Acropolis,  or  Parthenon.  He  only  built  tents ;  but 
the  heart  of  the  world  beats  over  the  work  of  Paul, 
the  builder  of  tents,  more  than  it  does  over  Pericles, 


136  TRAVELS   IN   THE  OLD   WORLD 

the  builder  of  marble  Parthenons?  Paul  had  no 
money.  He  hired  his  own  house  and  paid  the  rent 
when  he  sold  a  tent.  Pericles  had  a  mighty  nation 
behind  him  and  the  money  and  wisdom  of  the  world 
at  his  call.  He  built  marble  temples  where  Athenian 
ideas  would  shine.  Paul  built  tents,  but  looked  be- 
yond the  place  they  were  pitched  to  "the  city  which 
hath  foundations  whose  builder  and  maker  is  God," 
as  he  set  in  motion  the  idea  that  has  sent  countless 
souls  rejoicing  through  the  shadows  to  the  Heavenly 
light  and  everlasting  life.  Which  has  blessed  the 
world  more,  Pericles,  the  empire  builder,  Phidias, 
the  sculptor,  Ictinis  and  Mnesicles,  the  architects, 
or  Paul,  the  servant  of  Jesus  Christ?  Verily  the 
work  of  man  goes  down  but  the  work  of  God  goes  on. 
As  we  steamed  out  of  the  bay  over  historic  waters, 
our  faces  set  toward  Egypt,  the  sun  was  going 
down  and  throwing  the  glorious  light  of  the  closing 
day  upon  the  hill,  upon  the  white  marble  ruins  of 
Athens,  and  across  the  quiet  waters  came  the 
thought  that  while  the  light  of  the  earth  goes  out 
the  light  of  the  Lord  shines  on. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

OVER  THE  SEAS  TO  EGYPT. 

Great  was  the  journey  down  to  Egypt  Wonder- 
ful seas,  historic  shores,  historic  memories,  balmy 
days,  soft  summer  nights  with  liquid  stars  and  low 
hung  moon.  These  things  will  not  be  forgotten. 
Our  path  had  passed  ancient  Troy  and  crossed  the 
line  of  Paul's  historic  missionary  journeys. 

Sitting  upon  the  deck,  with  the  breeze  blowing 
softly  and  the  sun  shining  peacefully  upon  the  far 
flung  line  of  the  sea,  we  read  from  Acts  Paul's  ac- 
count of  his  experiences  there  in  the  years  gone  by. 
How  different  was  his  experience  and  ours!  We 
were  with  friends.  We  had  above  us  the  flag  of 
a  great  Christian  country  to  protect  us.  We  carried 
passports  frqm  our  government  guaranteeing  us 
proper  treatment.  We  had  the  fair  skies,  gentle 
breezes.  But  how  storm-swept  Paul's  journey  was! 
"And  when  neither  sun  nor  stars  shone  for  many 
days,  and  no  small  tempest  lay  on  us,  all  hope  that 
we  should  be  saved  was  taken  away."  It  is  hard  for 
us  to  realize  what  these  strong  words  of  the  Apostle 
mean.  But  God  had  not  lost  sight  of  his  child  in 
the  teeth  of  the  storm  for  "There  stood  by  me  this 
night  an  angle  of  God  whose  I  am  and  whom  I 
serve,  saying  'Fear  not,  Paul.  Thou  must  stand 
before  Caesar,  and  lo.  God  hath  granted  thee  all 
them  that  sail  with  thee/  wherefore,  sirs,  be  of 
good  cheer  for  I  believe  God  that  it  shall  be  even 
as  He  hath  said."    Thank  God  for  a  faith  like  that! 


138  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

Thank  God  for  such  heavenly  visitations  in  the  time 
of  life's  worst  storms. 

The  27th  chapter  of  Acts  gives  a  thrill  at  any 
time  that  cannot  be  surpassed  by  any  litera- 
ture of  the  earth,  but,  reading  it  here  gives 
feelings  that  are  indescribable.  Here  was  the 
very  spot  where  the  heroic  Apostle  to  the  Gen- 
tiles— weak,  frail  and  half  dead,  with  all  the  world 
against  him  as  he  was  on  his  way  to  the  court  of 
a  brutal  Caesar,  on  what  he  knew  was  a  hopeless 
appeal,  took  charge  of  that  boat  and  its  crew  in 
that  awful  storm  and  guided  it  safely  ashore,  while 
he  made  the  darkened  heavens  shine  with  a  mighty 
faith.  He  was  cast  up  upon  yonder  island,  where  he 
shook  the  viper  in  the  fire  and  preached  the  power  of 
Christ  to  save  and  deliver.  Oh,  to  have  Paul's  faith, 
so  that  in  all  the  storms  of  life  we  can  feel  our  Pilot 
at  our  side,  and,  looking  through  the  storm  clouds, 
behold  the  shore  to  which  he  is  sure  to  lead  us. 

We  had  a  mingled,  mixed,  and  motley  company 
aboard  bur  boat.  There  were  Christian  travel^ 
ers,  tourists  and  missionaries  from  England  and 
America  on  their  way  to  Egypt  and  Palestine. 
There  were  merchants  from  Athens,  Smyrna  and 
Constantinople  going  to  Cairo  and  Alexandria  on 
tours  of  trade.  There  were  Egyptians  going  home 
from  those  cities  from  like  missions.  There  was 
an  Austrian  count  and  countess,  with  attendants 
and  a  lazy,  greasy,  bench-legged  pug  dog — their 
only  child,  who  had  to  be  walked  by  the  maid  every 
day.  There  were  Turkish  officers  and  gentlemen, 
and  a  good  sprinkling  of  Italians  along  with  some 


TRAVELS   IN   THE  OLD   WORLD  139 

coal-black    Soudanese   and    Kafir   negroes   to   add 
color  to  the  parade.     But  the  most  numerous  and 
most  conspicuous  part  of  the  company  was  ithe 
steerage,  full  of  Mohammedan  pilgrims  en  route 
to  holy  cities.     There  were  several  hundreds  of 
these  of  every  age  and  kind.    There  were  old  men, 
white  of  beard  and  brow;  old  women,  bent  and 
wrinkled;  strong  men  and  women  in  their  best 
days;  lads  and  lasses,  full  of  wonder;  little  ones 
and  ones  still  smaller,  crying,  sleeping,  crawling. 
These  were  packed  on  two  decks  like  chickens  in 
a  coop,  with  hardly  room  to  eat,  sleep  and  go 
through  their  prayers.    Such  an  array  of  rags,  filth, 
colors  and  odors  would  be  hard  to  find.    They  ate 
their  stale,  dirty  bread,  pumpkin  seeds,  dates  and 
whatever  they  had  in  their  dirty,  ragged  bags,  and 
drank  from  their  dirty  water  bottles  they  had  along, 
while  those  who  had  nothing  to  eat  did  not  seem  to 
greatly  mind  it,  perhaps  being  accustomed  to  it. 
Some  seemed  so  near  starved  and  so  lazy  that  they 
couldn't  develop  energy  enough  to  get  hungry.  They 
didn't  talk  much.    They  ate,  yawned,  prayed,  stared 
and  slept.     Many  of  them  had  been  making  hard 
sacrifices  for  a  long  time  to  get  the  means  to  take 
these  pilgrimages.     There  was  no  denial  too  hard 
for  such  a  trip.     Now  they  were  about  to  realize 
a  life-long  dream  and  visit  their  sacred  shrines 
from  whence  they  could  go  back  to  their  fellows 
with  the  triumphant  bands  upon  their  caps  and  with 
the  assurance  that  whatever  came  and  whatever 
went,  they  were  sure  to  reach  Mohammed  in  heaven, 
because  of  where  they  had  gone.    One  of  the  most 


140  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

interesting  things  in  Eastern  travel  is  these  bands 
of  pilgrims.  We  moved  among  them  but  were  cau- 
tious on  account  of  germs  and  fanaticism.  No  won- 
der the  English  government  enforces  examinations 
and  quarantine  regulations  in  these  waters,  and 
in  spite  of  all,  plague  and  other  disease  often  break 
out.  We  narrowly  missed  quarantine  twice  on  ac- 
count of  plague  among  the  pilgrims. 

One  of  the  most  interesting  characters  on  this 
part  of  the  journey  was  an  Egyptian  judge  who  had 
been  over  to  Athens  on  a  legal  mission  of  some  kind 
and  was  en  route  home  to  the  land  of  Pharoah,  to 
assume  his  judicial  duties.  Not  being  able  to  ex- 
actly understand  his  name,  we  called  him  Judge 
Bathrobe,  for  the  reason  that  he  came  to  breakfast 
just  as  he  got  up,  wearing  a  dirty  night-shirt,  with 
barefeet,  his  face  unwashed  and  his  hair  uncombed. 
If  it  didn't  suit  his  honor  he  didn't  change  his  cos- 
tume all  day,  and  as  I  remember  it  didn't  suit  him 
until  he  was  ready  to  leave  the  boat.  The  judge  was 
very  friendly  and  tried  hard  to  cultivate  the  friend- 
ship of  the  Americans.  He  was  very  talkative  to 
the  men  and  exceedingly  courteous  to  the  ladies. 

The  fourth  of  July  found  us  on  this  sea  journey, 
so  when  the  day  was  done  and  the  stars  came  out 
in  the  soft  blue  sky,  we  took  ourselves  to  the  outer 
deck  where  we  could  have  room  to  let  off  steam, 
and  entered  into  a  regular  American  patriotic  cele- 
bration. It  was  indeed  a  striking  ceremony,  as  far 
away  from  our  native  land,  surrounded  by  staring 
auditors  of  many  nations,  afloat  on  the  Mediter- 
ranean, we  sang  our  native  songs  in  our  native 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  141 

tongue  and  paid  tribute  to  our  homeland  so  many 
miles  away.  I  wondered  what  impression  this 
service  and  our  religious  services  made  upon  those 
children  of  the  East.  Doubtless  it  was  all  as  strange 
and  comical  to  them  as  some  of  their  movements 
were  to  us.  Anyway,  we  seemed  to  hold  the  atten- 
tion of  the  people.  The  Turks,  the  Jews,  the  Ital- 
ians, the  Greeks,  the  Egyptians,  the  Austrians,  the 
Germans,  the  English,  the  Arabians  and  some  others 
so  hard  to  classify  that  they  would  best  be  put 
on  the  remnant  counter  came  near  to  look  and  lis- 
ten. Even  the  tired,  lazy  pilgrims  got  a  little  life 
in  them  and  took  a  little  interest  in  what  was  go- 
ing on.  Some  laughed,  some  talked  about  it  in 
strange  sounds,  some  turned  away  disgusted,  but 
the  most  of  them  looked  on  silently,  with  wide  eyes 
and  open  mouths. 

One  of  our  most  ardent  listeners  was  His  Honor 
Judge  Bathrobe.  He  seemed  to  fully  catch  the 
spirit  of  American  independence.  He  clapped  his 
hands  in  true  American  style  and  proposed  some- 
thing that  looked  and  sounded  like  a  toast  to  the 
Red,  White  and  Blue.  Having  the  fires  of  his 
patriotism  so  well  stirred  he  got  a  good  supply  of 
strong  wine  to  help  him  celebrate,  and  long  after 
we  retired  His  Honor  kept  up  the  exercises  by 
prancing  up  and  down  the  deck  in  his  night  shirt, 
making  the  night  alive  with  his  patriotic  speeches, 
or  maybe  they  were  speeches  of  anarchy,  how  could 
we  tell  ?  And  like  many  an  American  judge  he  mis- 
judged the  capacity  of  the  court,  over-charged  the 
jury  with  a  preponderance  of  evidence,  and  being  un- 
able to  prove  an  alibi  his  friends  had  to  resort  to 


142  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD  WORLD 

habeas  corpus  proceedings  to  get  him  to  bed  at 
4  A.  M.,  July  5th.  (If  this  is  not  legal  language  it 
gives  the  idea,) 

We  touched  the  interesting  city  of  Alexandria, 
named  for  Alexander  the  Great,  sailed  under  the 
shadow  of  Pompey's  pillar,  and  went  ashore  to  take 
our  first  look  at  Egypt  and  supply  ourselves  with 
cork  hats  and  thin  clothes  suited  for  the  heat  and 
the  travels  that  lay  ahead  of  us.  We  found  this 
great  city  both  ancient  and  modern.  There  is  in 
its  streets,  shops  and  buildings  much  to  speak  of 
England — much  of  real  elegance,  and  there  is  much, 
very  much  to  speak  of  the  East,  the  old  East,  and 
the  dusty  ancient  days  of  Egypt. 

We  resumed  our  journey  to  Port  Said  at  the 
mouth  of  the  Suez  Canal.  This  canal  is  under  the 
control  of  the  British  government,  which  several 
years  ago  purchased  a  controlling  interest  from  the 
Khedive  of  Egypt,  the  sum  being  twenty  million 
dollars.  It  has  revolutionized  Eastern  travel,  open- 
ing a  shorter  way  around  the  world  and  pours 
in  and  out  an  immense  amount  of  commerce.  More 
than  four  thousand  boats  each  year,  carrying  more 
than  half  a  million  souls  and  ten  million  tons  of 
freight,  touch  at  this  custom  house,  and  for  the 
privilege  of  this  waterway  pay  a  toll  of  twenty  mil- 
lion dollars.  So  great  is  the  traffic  through  this 
canal  that  often  a  boat  is  delayed  two  or  three  days 
in  getting  her  clearance  papers.  This  canal  gives 
England  a  tremendous  prestige  in  commerce  and 
military  power,  and  along  with  Gibraltar  makes 
John  Bull's  power  hard  to  shake  on  this  part  of  this 
terrestrial  ball. 


TRAVELS   IN   THE  OLD   WORLD  143 

Among  the  army  of  venders  that  poured  on  our 
boat  was  a  very  intelligent  Mohammedan  who 
pressed  us  with  his  wares.  We  told  him  it  was  our 
Holy  Day  and  on  that  day  we  neither  bought  nor 
sold.  He  at  once,  with  evident  respect,  made  ready 
to  move  on  to  other  buyers,  saying  as  he  did,  that 
Friday  was  his  Sabbath  and  that  nothing  could  in- 
duce him  to  trade  on  that  day.  Whether  he  spoke 
the  truth  or  not  I  do  not  know,  but  one  thing  was 
evident  time  and  again,  the  Jews  and  the  Moham- 
medans better  regarded  their  sabbaths  than  many 
Christians  we  chanced  to  meet. 

One  thing  of  special  interest  at  Port  Said  was  the 
Egyptians  coaling  the  big  ships.  They  carried  the 
coal  in  little  baskets  on  their  heads  and  in  a  little 
while  a  crowd  of  them  put  six  hundred  tons  on  the 
ship.  They  moved  like  clock  work,  singing  a  dron- 
ing song,  all  their  movements  keeping  time  to  the 
music,  like  our  old  cotton-field  negroes  used  to  do. 
What  a  difference  in  this  method  of  coaling  ships 
and  our  method  here  in  our  ports.  The  big  crane 
picks  up  a  car  in  a  minute,  lifts  it  clear  of  the  track, 
dumps  the  load  of  fifty  tons  and  puts  the  car  back 
on  the  track  with  as  much  ease  as  you  would  put 
a  shovel  full  of  coal  on  the  grate  and  put  up  the 
shovel.  But  one  thing  we  learned  over  and  over 
again  was  that  human  flesh  is  cheaper  than  ma- 
chinery in  the  East. 

After  supper  we  had  our  Sabbath  service  in  the 
dining  room,  and  after  committing  ourselves  to  our 
Father's  keeping,  we  fell  asleep,  thinking  of  the 
sacred  ground  upon  which  our  feet  so  soon  should 
walk. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 
IN  THE  1AND  OF  THE  PHARAOHS. 

The  shades  of  evening  were  falling  over  the  Land 
of  the  Pharaohs  when  we  emerged  from  the  Custom 
House  and  boarded  the  train  for  Cairo.  Our  faces 
were  toward  the  Land  of  Goshen,  whither  the  chil- 
dren of  Jacob  journeyed  with  their  aged  father 
after  the  famine  had  driven  them  from  their  native 
hills  into  the  arms  of  their  long  lost  brother  in 
whose  hands  a  providential  God  had  put  corn  to 
feed  them  in  their  hunger. 

How  strange  and  wonderful  are  the  ways  of  God 
in  the  lives  of  men!  Who  would  think  Heaven's 
Guardian  Angel  would  follow  a  stripling  lad  like 
that.  Sold  as  a  slave  he  was  guided  into  a  strange 
land  among  strange  people,  saved  from  all  the  dang- 
ers of  a  slave's  life,  guarded  among  those  who 
sought  his  ruin,  brought  into  the  leadership  of  the 
world's  greatest  nation  where  he  was  made  the 
savior  of  those  who  plotted  his  ruin.  Thus  ran  our 
thoughts  that  evening  as  we  went  through  the  land 
where  Joseph  was  so  great  and  God  was  so  good. 
The  rays  of  an  Eastern  moon,  that  turned  on  its 
light  when  the  sun  went  out,  but  added  to  the  charm 
of  the  pictures  that  rose  before  us  as  the  train  sped 
on.  In  the  soft  and  liquid  light  of  the  moon  falling 
on  that  land  so  rich  in  yielding  corn,  but  richer  still 
in  its  harvest  of  history  (nowhere  does  the  moon 
shine  like  it  does  in  this  land),  we  could  almost  see 
the  sights  of  the  centuries  coming  up  before  us. 


Mt.  Zion,  where  David  Lived. 


Grave  of  Lazarus.     Jesus  was  buried 
in  such  a  tomb  hewn  out  of  solid  rock. 


The  Breach  in  the  Wall  made  for  the  Kaiser  in  1898. 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  145 

We  could  almost  hear  the  groans  of  Israel  and  the 
fall  of  the  task-master's  lash  as  he  drove  them  on 
to  make  brick  without  straw.  We  could  almost  see 
the  shadows  of  the  plagues  falling  across  the  court 
of  Pharaoh,  and  it  started  a  creeping  chill  to  think 
we  were  where  all  those  horrors  took  place.  Large 
loomed  the  majestic  figure  of  the  stalwart  Moses 
coming  down  from  the  sands  of  Midian  to  lead  his 
people,  and  clear  and  strong  rose  the  hand  of  God 
as  over  yonder  in  the  surging  waters  of  the 
Red  Sea  He  showed  that  with  all  the  greatness  of 
Egypt  God  was  greater  still.  We  wondered  if  we 
crossed  the  path  our  Savior  came,  as  his  parents 
brought  him  down  here  to  hide  from  the  bloody  hand 
of  Herod?  That  must  have  been  a  tiresome  trip 
for  the  mother  and  the  Little  Child  as  over  the 
burning  sands  they  came!  Christ  fleeing  from  a 
wicked  man!  And  yet,  he  did  it  more  than  once 
to  show  the  plan  of  His  Father's  love  to  save  the 
world. 

Sometimes  these  old  bodies  get  so  tired  that  even 
in  the  midst  of  the  world's  greatest  glories  they 
sleep  on  as  if  they  were  at  home.  We  were  back 
in  the  common  scenes  of  home  as  if  we  expected  to 
stay  there  a  long  time,  when  called  from  our  slum- 
bers by  the  loud  cawing  of  the  sacred  birds  of 
Egypt.  Our  room  opened  out  on  a  little  porch  onto 
a  court  full  of  trees  and  flowers,  and  to  get  full 
benefit  of  the  breezes  we  left  the  door  open.  At 
day  light  these  sacred  birds  came  to  the  door  to 
greet  us  and  bid  us  welcome  to  the  Land  of  the 
Nile,  or  maybe  they  came  to  protest  at  the  intru- 


146  TRAVELS   IN   THE  OLD  WORLD 

sion  of  foreigners  into  their  old  and  sacred  shrines. 
Whether  a  welcome  or  protest,  it  was  loud  and  en- 
thusiastic. The  land  is  full  of  these  birds  and  so 
sacred  have  they  been  held  by  Egypt  through  her 
long  centuries,  that  their  lives  have  been  protected 
and  people  have  lost  their  own  lives  for  killing 
them.  These  are  the  birds  that  according  to  the 
Old  Religion  of  Egypt,  bore  the  soul  on  their  swift 
wings  to  the  court  of  Osiris,  the  chief  god  of  Egypt, 
where  it  was  judged  after  it  left  the  body.  They 
were  honored  and  protected  that  they  might  carry 
on  this  sacred  and  important  work.  Whether  they 
had  come  to  our  room  that  morning  to  offer  their 
services  to  us  in  this  capacity,  I  know  not,  but  from 
their  mean  looks  I  would  fear  if  we  fell  into  their 
hands  they  might  carry  us  to  the  bad  place,  for  they 
looked  like  birds  of  ill-omen  to  me.  Like  Poe's 
raven,  they  sat  about  our  door  crying,  "Evermore" 
or  "Nevermore,"  I  know  not  which,  but  they  ever- 
more squaked. 

We  had  breakfast — coffee,  bread  and  butter — the 
Continental  breakfast  as  it  is  called,  because  it  has 
been  adopted  as  the  universal  breakfast  over  the 
continent  of  Europe.  It  is  all  you  get,  and  many 
times,  as  you  long  for  an  old  southern  breakfast, 
you  feel  it  has  the  right  name,  for,  compared  to  the 
breakfast  a  preacher  gets  in  the  South  it  is  not 
worth  a  continental.  The  first  time  I  was  intro- 
duced to  it,  was  in  a  fine  hotel  in  Germany.  From 
the  fine  appearance  of  things  I  set  the  notches  of 
my  appetite  up  for  one  of  the  finest  breakfasts  T 
had  ever  seen.     Presently  the  waiter  brought  me 


TRAVELS  IN   THE   OLD  WORLD  147 

two  little  rolls,  a  little  piece  of  butter  and  some 
coffee.  I  sat  there  a  few  minutes  waiting  for  steak3, 
ham  and  eggs,  fruits,  fish  and  an  array  of  savory 
dishes  with  hard  names,  but  they  didn't  come. 
Others  started  on  what  they  had,  and  so  did  I,  think- 
ing they  had  just  given  us  this  to  amuse  ourselves 
with  while  they  were  getting  breakfast  ready, 
Surely  such  a  fine  hotel  would  have  a  fine  breakfast. 
After  a  while  the  others  got  a  toothpick  and  left 
and  so  did  I.  This  was  our  breakfast  in  Cairo 
and  everywhere  else  except  on  the  ocean  going 
boats  and  in  England.  There  is  no  limit  to  their 
fare. 

Soon  after  breakfast,  as  our  custom  was,  we  met 
in  front  of  the  hotel  to  begin  our  sight  seeing,  and 
no  sight  seeing  was  more  interesting  or  helpful  than 
those  days  in  Egypt.  There  is  a  great  deal  to  see 
in  Cairo.  Its  charm  is  both  ancient  and  modern. 
It  is  a  great  city  of  nearly  a  million  souls,  being  the 
center  of  the  life  and  activities  of  all  Egypt  and 
that  part  of  the  world.  The  European  section  will 
compare  favorably  with  any  city,  in  its  streets,  busi- 
ness houses  and  the  business  that  is  done.  It  has 
a  distinctly  English  air,  every  where  you  go  you 
see  the  touch  of  England's  hand;  her  troops  keep 
order,  her  money  and  men  control  business  and  her 
rulers  dictate  the  policy  of  Egypt.  The  better  ele- 
ment of  the  Egyptians  have  a  section  of  the  city 
which  is  rich  and  attractive.  Many  of  these  people 
are  wealthy  and  live  in  great  pomp  and  splendor. 
Some  of  them,  both  men  and  women,  are  very  hand- 
some. In  addition  to  these  two  elements  there  is  a 
very  large  class  of  the  poor  that  make  up  the  rest 


148  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

of  the  city's  life.  These  are  made  up  of  many 
classes  but  are  chiefly  Arabs,  Egyptians,  Nubians 
and  Soudanese.  From  all  parts  of  Upper  Africa 
and  other  surrounding  countries  they  pour  into 
Cairo  in  streams.  The  business  of  Cairo  in  its  traf- 
fic in  native  products  of  Egypt  and  North  Africa, 
and  its  stream  of  outgoing  and  incoming  com- 
merce is  immense. 

While  Cairo  is  one  of  the  most  interesting  cities 
of  the  earth  in  its  present  day  life,  in  its  ancient 
life  there  is  a  still  greater  charm,  for  in  it  and  about 
it  was  written  much  of  the  history  of  Egypt's 
ancient  glory.  One  of  the  chief  places  of  in- 
terest in  the  city  is  the  great  museum.  This  was 
one  of  the  first  places  we  visited.  In  the  East,  there 
is  much  that  is  mere  legend  and  the  traveler  must 
keep  busy  separating  the  real  from  the  unreal. 
Much  that  is  shown  you  is  mere  tradition  like  the 
wonderful  parable  in  the  negro  preacher's  sermon, 
"got  up  fur  de  purpose  ob  finances."  This  is  partly 
due,  however,  to  the  fact  that  in  the  passing  of  so 
many  people  and  their  deeds,  no  record  was  made 
that  would  stand  the  wear  of  the  years  and  the 
hands  of  vandalism.  Egypt,  however,  has  done 
otherwise.  Not  only  has  she  left  abundant  evidence 
in  the  abundance  of  carvings  and  hieroglyphics  in 
her  tombs  and  buildings  but  she  built  with  such 
strength  and  skill  that  her  works  endure  and  speak 
for  themselves  beyond  all  doubt.  So  when  you  see 
the  wonders  of  Cairo's  museum  you  need  not  think 
they  are  the  inventions  of  yesterday.  They  are 
the  real  relics  of  the  fargone  yesterdays.     When 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  149 

you  look  upon  the  face  of  Pharaoh  (Rameses  II), 
who  oppressed  Israel  and  contended  with  Moses, 
don't  look  skeptical.  It  is  beyond  all  doubt  the  old 
fellow.  It  gave  us  the  creeps  to  look  on  his  strong 
but  tyranical  looking  face. 

Not  only  did  we  see  the  mummies  of  those  distant 
days  but  many  other  mummyfied  objects  of  ages 
long  gone,  some  of  them  over  five  thousand  years 
old.  Many  of  these  objects  had  been  preserved  in 
such  a  perfect  manner  that  it  was  truly  wonderful 
to  behold  them,  and  they  looked  so  modern  that  it 
seemed  you  were  gazing  in  the  shops  of  yesterday. 
Knives,  beads,  jewelry,  chairs,  swords,  axes,  hats 
and  clothes,  very  much  like  ours,  safety  pins,  baked 
potatoes,  apples,  rolls,  roast  fowl  and  many  other 
objects  in  great  abundance,  made  us  wonder  how 
much  like  our  own  day  those  distant  ages  really 
were.  Imagine  how  a  Methodist  preacher  feels  look- 
ing on  a  cooked  chicken  over  five  thousand  years 
old. 

Another  very  interesting  object  to  be  seen  in  the 
museum  of  Cairo  is  the  renowned  "Village  Chief." 
It  is  a  huge  stature  made  of  wood,  representing  the 
landlord  of  the  old  days.  When  the  natives  first 
beheld  him,  they  named  him  at  once  "The  Village 
Chief."  This  stature  is  made  of  wood  and  is  nearly 
five  thousand  years  old.  It  is  one  of  the  oldest  and 
most  wonderful  relics  of  long-gone  ages.  You  can 
but  wonder  how  any  kind  of  wood  could  be  pre- 
served so  long.  It  is  in  perfect  condition,  showing 
no  signs  of  decay  from  the  wear  of  so  many  cen- 
turies.    The  features  and  the  form  are  very  strik- 


15€  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

ing,  no  stronger  or  more  perfect  human  face  has 
ever  been  produced  by  art.  It  really  seems  to  be 
alive  and  looks  out  at  you  with  eyes  bright  and 
piercing.  The  balls  of  these  eyes  are  made  of  white 
quartz,  the  pupils  of  silver  nails  and  the  eyebrows 
of  bronze.  They  stare  at  you  where  ever  you  go  and 
those  lips,  though  made  of  wood,  seem  trying  hard 
to  tell  you  about  the  distant  day  and  wonderful  land 
from  whence  they  came. 

We  looked  upon  some  of  the  mummies  of  the 
sacred  bulls.  They  also  came  from  that  fargone 
age  and  represent  the  wonderful  skill  of  Egypt's 
hands  and  the  magnitude  of  some  of  her  schemes 
as  well  as  the  strangeness  of  her  religion.  These 
bulls  were  Egypt's  gods.  They  were  believed  to  be 
deified  and  were  the  living  form  of  their  greatest 
and  most  honored  duties.  They  were  kept  in  tem- 
ples surrounded  with  all  the  luxury  and  gorgeous 
wealth  the  richness  of  Egypt  could  bring  before 
them.  To  the  temples  of  these  beasts  the  people 
came  to  worship  and  sacrifice  while  they  lived,  and 
when  one  died  he  was  embalmed  with  all  the  art  and 
ceremony  Egypt  could  muster  and  buried  with  pomp 
and  splendor  seldom  given  a  king.  It  is  said,  the 
cost  of  the  funeral  of  one  of  these  bulls  was  nearly 
one  hundred  thousand  dollars  in  our  money,  which 
in  that  day  would  have  been  indeed  a  fortune.  To 
the  tomb  of  the  bull's  mummy  the  people  flocked 
with  their  worship  and  their  offerings.  When  a 
bull  died  the  priests  were  given  the  task  of  travel- 
ing through  Egypt  seeking  for  his  successor.  He 
was  selected  something  like  our  prize  calves  are 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  151 

selected  at  our  agricultural  fairs.  When  one  was 
found  whose  marks  and  qualifications  satisfied  the 
priests,  he  was  elevated  to  the  divine  throne  and 
taken  to  the  sacred  temple  where  he  spent  the  rest 
of  his  days  in  circumstances  becoming  his  position. 
The  religious  ideas  of  that  fargone  day  were  in- 
deed strange  and  seem  harsh  and  shocking  to  us, 
and  yet  there  is  something  about  it  all  that  had  a 
fascination  for  the  people  of  those  days,  and  in  the 
study  of  that  religion,  like  the  study  of  all  religions 
of  heathen  and  semi-heathen  people,  we  were  struck 
with  the  fact  that  the  heart  always  has  had  up- 
reachings  for  something  Eternal.  Egypt  spent  all 
her  energy,  resources  and  marvelous  wisdom  and 
skill  in  her  effort  to  lay  her  hand  on  something 
Eternal,  and  herein  lies  the  chief  charm  of  all  her 
greatness  and  the  wonderful  works  she  has  left  the 
world.  There  is  something  touching  and  pathetic 
about  how  she  spent  herself  to  do  these  things.  She 
believed  in  the  Eternal  with  all  her  soul,  though  her 
ideas  were  vague  and  clouded  with  the  superstition 
of  her  age.  She  longed  for  the  Eternal  and  spent  all 
her  powers  to  lay  her  hands  upon  it.  All  the  pyra- 
mids, sphinx,  temples  and  statues  were  built  at  an 
expenditure  of  time  and  strength  that  staggers  the 
swiftest  mind.  The  idea  in  their  building  was  to 
have  something  that  would  last,  something  that  the 
storms  of  future  years  could  not  blow  away,  some- 
thing that  would  be  eternal.  There  is  something  in 
the  heart  that  can  but  honor  those  who  build  that 
way. 


152  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

They   brought  all   the   skill   of  their  fine   arts, 
now  unknown,  to  bear,  that  they  might  so  embalm 
their  bodies  that  all  coming  years  could  not  crum- 
ble them  away,  for  they  believed  the  soul  was  eter- 
nal and  when  it  left  the  body  it  went  through  a 
series  of  preparations  getting  ready  for  the  better 
world.    If  it  was  unworthy  of  that  better  world,  it 
was  sent  into  some  animal  that  it  might  be  dis- 
ciplined and  punished.    Thus,  through  a  continued 
journey  of  animal  existence  it  made  its  way  up- 
ward or  downward  until  called  for  to  enter  its  eter- 
nat  state.    The  body  must  be  made  eternal  for  the 
soul  to  occupy,  so  the  body  was  embalmed.    If  the 
body  was  not  thus  preserved,  the  soul  would  have 
no  eternal  dwelling  place,  but  must  wander  home- 
less through  the  ages  to  come.    Food  was  placed  in 
the  tomb  for  the  body  and  also  for  the  soul  when 
it  came  to  visit  the  body.    This  food  was  embalmed 
for  the  body,  but  many  offerings  of  food  were 
placed  in  the  tomb  near  the  body  for  the  soul  on 
its  regular  visits.    The  loved  ones  and  friends  looked 
after  this  and  were  encouraged  in  their  faith  when 
on  future  visits  to  these  tombs  they  found  their  of- 
ferings gone,  never  wondering  which  beat  in  the 
race  for  that  dinner,  the  soul  or  the  priest.     Thus 
before  the  days  of  the  Pope,  did  the  priests  feed 
themselves  fat  on  the  stupidity  of  their  worshipers. 
There  were  many  more  things  of  interest  in  this 
great  museum  which  have  been  brought  to  light  by 
the  long  and  faithful  efforts  of  the  explorers  of 
America,  England  and  France,  but  we  must  pass 
from  them. 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  153 

We  next  visited  the  old  Citadel  which  is  now 
known  as  the  "Tomb  of  the  Mamelukes."  This  will 
always  bring  keen  and  cruel  visions  to  the  student 
of  Egyptian  history.  The  "Mamelukes"  or  "White- 
slaves," were  the  lieutenants  of  Mohammed  Ali,  the 
great  ruler  and  maker  of  the  present  Egypt.  What 
Diaz  was  to  the  Mexico  of  the  past  generation,  Mo- 
hammed Ali  was  to  the  Egypt  of  the  past  genera- 
tion. The  Egyptian  was  even  more  cruel  and  des- 
potic than  the  Mexican,  but  like  him,  did  some  great 
constructive  work  in  the  government  of  his  people. 
The  Egyptian's  work  was  greater  and  when  he 
passed  away  the  hand  of  England  reached  out  to 
conserve  and  carry  on  the  work  to  higher  and  better 
achievements  and  not  let  it  all  be  lost  by  rebellions 
and  strife. 

Mohammed  Ali  in  building  up  his  kingdom  se- 
lected some  trusted  men  to  help  him.  These  men 
were  true  to  their  leader  and  wrought  well  to  bring 
him  to  the  zenith  of  power  and  glory.  When  Mo- 
hammed Ali  had  Egypt  in  his  iron  grip,  he  grew 
jealous  and  uneasy  for  fear  the  Mamelukes  who  had 
brought  him  into  power  might  turn  their  hands 
against  his  to  take  that  power  from  him,  so  he  de- 
vised a  scheme  to  rid  himself  of  them,  which  in  its 
diabolical  conception  and  bloody  execution  would 
suit  the  taste  of  a  Nero  and  gladden  the  soul  of  the 
Archfiend  who  delights  to  see  blood  flow.  He  in- 
vited four  hundred  and  eighty  of  these,  trusted 
lieutenants,  to  feast  in  the  citadel,  and  when  the 
festivities  were  at  their  highest,  his  soldiers,  who 
had  been  concealed  by  him  in  the  building,  at  a  given 


154  TRAVELS   IN   THE  OLD  WORLD 

signal,  opened  fire  upon  them.  Mohammed  Ali  list- 
ened quietly  to  the  dying  groans  of  those  who  had 
made  him  king  of  Egypt  and  saw  them  lying  in 
their  blood.  When  the  bloody  deed  was  over  he 
quietly  remarked  that  nothing  now  was  between 
him  and  the  undisputed  sovereignty  of  Egypt.  One 
of  the  Mamelukes  escaped  by  mounting  his  horse 
and  forcing  him  to  leap  the  walls  of  the  citadel,  and 
in  spite  of  the  rain  of  fire,  made  good  his  escape  to 
the  Mokattam  hills.  A  little  over  a  half  century  ago, 
he  could  be  seen  on  the  streets  of  Cairo,  an  old  man 
with  white  whiskers,  quietly  going  on  his  way. 

One  of  the  deeds  of  Mohammed  Ali  was  the  build- 
ing of  the  Mahmaadiah  canal  from  the  Nile  to  the 
city  of  Alexandria.  This  canal  irrigated  the  sur- 
rounding country  and  made  possible  the  rebuilding 
by  Mohammed  Ali  of  the  modern  city  of  Alexandria. 
This  canal,before  the  railroad  was  constructed  from 
Alexandria  to  Cairo,  connected  the  two  cities,  with 
a  medium  of  traffic,  bringing  from  Cairo,  the  inland 
city,  the  commerce  of  the  Nile  and  taking  from 
Alexandria  to  Cairo  the  commerce  of  the  seas.  This 
was  one  of  the  greatest  things  that  could  have  been 
done  for  Egypt  at  the  time,  in  opening  up  the  trade 
for  Egypt's  cotton  and  other  products.  The  canal 
is  forty  miles  long.  Twenty-five  thousand  natives, 
many  of  them  men,  women  and  children,  worked  on 
this  task,  digging  the  mud  and  dirt  with  their  hands 
under  the  fierce  rays  of  Egypt's  burning  sun  and 
the  still  fiercer  lash  of  the  overseer's  whip.  From 
fever,  dug  up  in  the  mud,  and  exposure  and  cruelty, 
nearly  three  thousand  died  before  the  work  was 
done. 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD  WORLD  155 

We  also  visited  Shooba  palace,  where  Mohammed 
Ali  spent  the  closing  years  of  his  old  age,  surrounded 
by  wealth  and  luxury  becoming  the  mighty  monarch 
he  believed  himself  to  be.  Here,  he  lived  at  peace 
and  in  ease,  notwithstanding  the  stormy  life  that 
lay  behind  him,  so  full  of  blood  and  horrors.  His 
favorite  pastime  was  sitting  on  his  gorgeous  cush- 
ions smoking  his  long  Turkish  pipe  and  ordering 
his  servants  to  take  the  ladies  of  his  harem  out  upon 
his  lake  in  little  boats  and  at  his  order,  upset  the 
boat  and  give  them  a  good  ducking.  As  the  old 
fellow  beheld  them  floundering  in  the  water  and 
screaming  in  their  fright,  he  would  laugh  until  the 
tears  ran  down  his  cheeks.  It  is  strange  how  the 
heart  of  a  criminal  can  amuse  itself  and  stranger 
still  the  things  bloody  hands  will  take  for  their  play- 
things. 

Egypt's  greatest  blessing  is  the  Nile.  It  is 
Egypt's  life.  Without  the  Nile  there  would  be  no 
Egypt.  Unless  the  life-giving  waters  flow  down  upon 
Egypt's  fertile  lands  they  will  be  like  the  barren 
deserts  on  each  side.  On  one  side  are  the  Libyan 
mountains  and  the  limitless  sands  of  the  deserts, 
while  on  the  other  side  the  Arabian  desert  with  its 
unknown  sea  of  sand  running  from  the  Nile  to  the 
Red  Sea  and  southward  through  the  great  Sahara 
to  Central  Africa.  Here,  in  this  world  of  sand,  lies 
Egypt.  Wherever  the  waters  of  the  Nile  go  Egypt 
goes,  and  where  the  water  stops,  Egypt  stops.  The 
line  that  divides  Egypt  from  the  desert  is  as  plain 
as  the  line  dividing  the  land  from  the  sea.  Through 
all  the  slow-going  centuries  it  has  been  a  fight  be- 


156  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

tween  life  and  death,  between  the  waters  of  the  Nile 
and  the  sands  of  the  deserts.  When  the  lack  of  rain 
has  kept  back  the  waters  the  desert  has  closed  in 
on  Egypt,  and  when  fall  rains  have  again  overflown 
the  Nile,  Egypt  has  pushed  the  desert  back,  thus 
preaching  a  mighty  sermon  on  "Everything  shall 
live  where  the  river  cometh,"  Ezk.  47 :9  Wherever 
the  river  does  not  come,  nothing  can  live.  Thus  it 
is  with  the  River  of  Life  that  flows  from  the  Hills 
of  God.  It  is  a  fight  in  the  lives  of  men  between 
that  river  and  the  Desert  of  Sin.  Wherever  the 
river  goes,  the  sands  of  sin  turn  to  an  oasis  of 
heavenly  life,  and  when  the  waters  of  the  river  are 
kept  back,  the  deserts  of  death  and  sin  close  in  on 
the  soul,  producing  famine  and  death  just  like  a 
drought  will  do  for  Egypt.  Many  times  famine  and 
death  have  come  because  the  waters  of  the  Nile  have 
not  come.  The  seven  years  of  plenty  in  the  days  of 
Pharaoh  were  seven  years  of  the  Nile's  full  waters 
going  out  into  all  Egypt's  borders  to  make  the  har- 
vest come.  The  seven  years  of  famine  were  seven 
years  the  Nile  waters  did  not  come  down,  and  the 
deserts  closed  in  to  take  Egypt's  life  away.  So,  in 
all  our  lives  the  years  of  plenty  are  the  years  when 
the  River  of  God  runs  full  and  free  through  our 
souls  and  the  years  of  famine  are  the  years  when 
we  let  the  desert's  sand  bear  down  upon  us  and  the 
River  of  Life  cannot  come  to  bless  us. 

The  Nile  is  the  longest  river  of  the  earth,  being 
over  three  thousand  miles  in  length.  For  many  cen- 
turies only  half  of  this  distance — up  to  the  first 
cataract  had  been  explored — it  rerrfained  for  Henry 


TRAVELS   IN   THE  OLD   WORLD  157 

M.  Stanley,  who  found  the  body  of  David  Living- 
ston and  opened  dark  Africa  to  the  world,  to  find  the 
sourcces  of  the  Nile  many  hundreds  of  miles  further 
in  the  interior  of  the  great  unknown  wilderness. 
The  ancients,  not  knowing  from  whence  the  Nile 
came,  believed  its  source  and  origin  were  from  di- 
vine sources.  They  thought  it  bubbled  up  in  the 
fields  of  Paradise  and  at  its  source  the  angels  drank 
and  bathed  and  then  the  waters  ran  on  to  bless  the 
race.  They  naturally  deified  the  river  and  wor- 
shipped it.  So  when  Moses,  by  God's  order,  turned 
the  waters  of  the  Nile  into  blood,  causing  it  to  yield 
death  instead  of  life,  it  was  a  humiliating  and 
deadly  thrust  at  their  god. 

Through  the  spring  rains  in  the  Nile  basin  it  rises 
for  several  weeks,  gathering  in  its  long  journey, 
rich  deposits  which  it  takes  down  to  Egypt  as  well 
as  its  moisture.  One  truly  remarkable  thing  about 
this  great  river  is  that  for  the  last  fifteen  hundred 
miles  of  its  journey  it  has  no  tributary.  The  burn- 
ing sun  pours  down  upon  its  waters  to  dry  them  up, 
and  seldom  does  a  drop  of  rain  fall  to  pay  back  the 
debt.  The  deserts  on  each  side  run  down  to  take 
up  its  waters  and  all  that  long  distance  it  is  the 
only  source  of  life  for  the  multitude  of  people  and 
living  things,  and  the  population  of  more  than 
twelve  million  souls,  and  yet  it  is  not  exhausted. 

For  centuries  in  art  and  literature  the  Nile  has 
been  honored  by  the  earth  as  well  as  by  the  people 
who  depend  upon  it  for  life.  In  the  Vatican  in 
Rome,  there  is  a  stature  of  Father  Nile,  the  father 
of  Egypt,  leaning  on  the  Sphinx,  with  sixteen  pyg- 


158  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

mies  playing  over  him.  They  represent  the  sixteen 
cubits'  rise  of  the  Nile  as  it  flows  by  the  Sphinx, 
which  will  give  life  and  plenty  to  Egypt.  If  the  six- 
teen pygmies  climb  on  the  old  fellow  as  he  leans  on 
the  Sphinx  it  means  blessings  to  the  people. 

The  richness  of  the  Nile  Valley  is  almost  beyond 
conception.  The  harvests  it  produces  is  unequalled 
by  any  spot  on  the  earth ;  corn  grows  like  a  wilder- 
ness and  its  height  and  thickness  looks  black 
in  its  richness.  Cotton  and  sugar  cane  likewise 
flourish  in  a  way  that  is  astonishing  to  see.  Every- 
where we  went  we  saw  the  half  naked  inhabitants 
lounging  about  or  taking  their  siesta  in  the  shade, 
if  it  was  the  middle  of  the  day.  Sometimes  they  were 
working  in  a  lazy  way,  plowing  their  buffalo  oxen  or 
driving  them  around  their  irrigating  machine  which 
is  constructed  something  like  our  cane  mills  The 
beast  goes  round,  turning  a  big  wheel  on  which  are 
buckets  of  some  kind  which  go  down  into  the  water 
and  fill  themselves  and  as  the  wheel  revolves,  rise  to 
the  top  to  dump  their  water  into  the  ditch  from 
which  it  runs  out  into  the  fields.  Sometimes  these 
buckets  are  nothing  but  old  pumpkin  shells.  The 
men  then  get  out  in  their  bare  feet,  in  the  dirt  and 
mud  where  the  water  runs,  open  a  little  channel 
with  their  toes  for  the  water  to  run  from  each  row 
to  each  plant.  It  is  not  a  very  clean  or  healthy  look- 
ing task.  When  I  looked  on  this  scene  I  called  to 
mind  the  words  of  Moses  in  Deut  11 :10  "For  the 
Land  whither  thou  goest  in  to  possess  it,  is  not  the 
land  of  Egypt  from  whence  ye  come  out,  where  thou 
sowest  thy  seed  and  waterest  it  with  thy  foot,  as  a 


TRAVELS   IN   THE  OLD   WORLD  159 

garden  of  herbs."  Whatever  theologians  and  com- 
mentators had  said  about  this  text,  the  picture  was 
there  before  me  to  speak  for  itself.  Many  times  the 
Israelites  hdd  done  this  filthy  and  unhealthy  work, 
for  it  was  all  the  way  Egypt  had  to  get  a  harvest. 
But  God  was  leading  them  out  of  this  land  that  thus 
depended  upon  life  for  its  crops,  to  a  land  He  Him- 
self would  water  from  the  skies. 

We  saw  many  of  the  water  buffaloes  working  at 
their  task  of  irrigation  and  cultivation  or  lying 
in  the  water  covered  with  mud  to  keep  them  cool 
and  save  them  from  the  flies  and  fleas.  Many  times 
we  saw  them  coming  up  out  of  the  Nile  where  they 
had  buried  themselves,  all  but  their  faces,  like 
Pharaoh  saw  in  his  dream.  All  we  saw  were  fat 
and  not  lean,  for  Egypt  was  not  in  a  famine  then 
and  they  could  find  plenty  to  eat.  We  saw  many 
date  trees  full  of  dates.  These  trees  grow  up  with 
a  long  trunk,  bushy  at  the  top,  containing  several 
bunches  of  dates  often  so  large  that  a  single  bunch 
will  make  a  bushel.  These  dates  are  a  popular  and 
very  useful  fruit  throughout  the  East.  They  are  de- 
licious and  very  wholesome. 

In  Egypt  as  well  as  throughout  all  the  Eastern 
lands  the  middle  of  the  day  is  very  hot.  From  about 
eleven  o'clock  until  three  the  sun  is  so  hot  that  no- 
body but  the  natives  who  are  hardened  to  it  can 
endure  it,  while  in  the  shade  you  can  keep  very 
comfortable.  The  people  are  in  the  habit  of  sleep- 
ing or  taking  their  siesta  as  they  call  it.  The  stores 
and  business  places  close  and  if  you  go  out  shop- 
ping you  can  hardly  find  a  place  to  buy  anything. 


160  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

A  few  of  the  poorer  natives  go  on  at  their  tasks, 
but  the  most  of  them  forget  their  troubles  in  sleep. 
It  is  at  first  a  strange  and  amusing  scene  to  see 
people  everywhere  you  go,  taking  this  long  nap. 
The    "well-to-do"   lie   in   their   homes   upon   their 
beds  or  rugs,  or  perhaps  the  men  close  their  shops 
and  lie  down  at  the  door  or  in  the  shade  near  by. 
The  poor  can  be  seen  in  great  numbers  sleeping 
in  the  dirt  in  the  streets  or  in  dirty  houses  where 
dogs,  donkeys,  goats  and  folks  in  one  tangled  mass 
forget  their  burdens  in  "nature's  sweet  restorer/' 
I  laughed  at  these  people  for  what  seemed  at  first 
to  be  their  laziness,  and  the  first  morning  we  came 
in  from  sight  seeing  I  decided  to  strike  out  down 
town  to  see  what  I  could  find,  but  before  I  got  back 
my  brain  was  almost  cooked  in  the  hottest  sun  I 
ever  felt,  and  I  concluded  they  knew  better  than  I 
did.    I  did  not  sleep  for  I  could  never  do  much  of 
that  in  the  day  but  I  was  content  to  seek  a  shady 
spot  and  stay  there  until  the  rising  breezes  and  the 
receding  sun  brought  in  a  better  hour.    About  three 
o'clock  the  air  changes,  a  breeze  begins  to  blow  and 
from  then  on  it  is  very  comfortable.    I  found  only 
three  or  four  nights  too  warm  for  comfort  and 
suffered  far  more  from  heat  after  I  returned  to 
Virginia  than  I  did  in  Egypt  and  Palestine.     The 
greatest  difference  is  in  the  burning  sun  of  the  East ; 
sometimes  instead  of  a  sea  breeze  the  breeze  will 
blow  in  from  the  desert.    It  is  called  a  Sirocco  and 
makes  life  almost  unbearable,  we  encountered  one, 
of  which  I  will  speak  later  on. 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  161 

One  night  in  Cairo  we  attended  the  Feast  of 
Ramadan,  the  greatest  feast  of  the  Mohammedan 
Church.     They  celebrate  it  after  a  long  fast,  and, 
like  some  folks  higher  up  in  the  scale  of  culture, 
they  seem  to  make  their  feasting  more  strenuous 
than  their  fasting.    I  had  never  seen  anything  like 
that  event  and  never  expect  to  behold  its  like  again. 
It  was  held  in  a  big  park  in  the  city,  which  was 
enclosed,  and  all  who  entered  had  to  go  in  at  the 
gate  and  present  a  ticket  to  the  keeper.    As  we  de- 
sired to  behold  Mohammedanism  at  its  best  as  well 
as  at  its  worst,  we  secured  tickets  and  went.     I 
wish  I  had  the  power  to  describe  that  event  but  it 
is  impossible.    There  was  no  end  to  the  people;  it 
seemed  that  half  the  world  was  there;  the  multi- 
tude was  made  up  of  all  classes,  from  the  Governor 
and  his  Company  to  the  waifs  and  outcasts,  but 
the  great  and  the  gay  seemed  to  predominate.     It 
would  be  hard  to  find  decorations  and  display  to 
equal  it,  while  the  costumes  worn  were  staggering 
to  the  senses.    Some  of  the  people  were  indeed  fine 
looking.    We  saw  some  of  the  prettiest  women  we 
saw   on   the   entire   trip   and    some   of   the    finest 
looking  men.    One  man,  a  commander-in-chief  of  the 
event,  I  think  was  the  handsomest  man  I  ever  saw. 
In   many  different  places  celebrations  of  various 
kinds  were  in  progress  with  crowds  entering  into 
them  wjith   great  interest  and   enthusiasm.     The 
crowd  that  seemed  to  have  no  end,  moved  on  in 
song   and    celebration;    old    Egypt    seemed    to   be 
awake,  she  seemed  to  be  coming  up  from  the  dust- 
covered   cemetery   of  the   centuries   in    pomp   and 


162  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD  WORLD 

splendor  to  sit  upon  her  throne  again  even  though 
that  throne  was  that  of  Mohammed.  The  old  coun- 
try was  on  fire  and  she  was  on  dress  parade.  The 
spendor,  dazzle  and  glitter  of  that  celebration  in 
its  wierd  mixture  of  ancient  Egypt,  the  Prophet  of 
Mecca  and  modern  things  can  never  be  forgotten. 
The  Feast  of  Ramadan  must  be  seen,  however,  to 
be  understood;  no  man  can  describe  it. 

But  we  must  bid  you  good-bye,  O  Egypt,  and  make 
our  way  toward  Rome.  Our  days  within  your  borders 
have  been  full  of  interest  and  into  our  tomorrows 
we  will  carry  with  us  the  charm  of  your  yesterdays. 
Great  hast  thou  been,  0  Egypt !  Wonderful  upon  the 
page  of  human  history ;  tracing  back  thy  beginning 
over  the  sands  of  the  centuries  until  thy  tracks  are 
lost  in  the  sands  of  dim  and  distant  days.  Thou 
art  the  mother  of  all  the  civilizations  the  earth  has 
known!  You  were  white  with  age  when  the  foun- 
dations of  Rome  were  laid!  You  were  looking  back 
over  the  sands  of  your  long-gone  yesterdays  when 
Solomon  dedicated  the  Temple  of  the  Lord  in  the 
City  of  Jerusalem.  Long  before  the  glories  of  Greece 
surged  about  the  parthenon  you  were  wearing  the 
white  of  the  centuries  on  your  head;  0  Land  of 
Magic  and  wonders  so  full  of  buried  glory  and  rich- 
ness in  things  that  are  gone!  Land  of  Cleopatra  and 
Anthony!  Land  of  the  Pharaohs  and  their  mighty 
deeds!  Land  of  Israel's  redemption  from  famine, 
oppression  in  tyranny  and  deliverance  from  bond- 
age !  Land  of  the  mighty  Joseph  and  birth  place  of 
the  Law  Giver  of  God!  Long  will  the  work  of  thy 
hands  still  stand  to  dazzle  the  gaze  of  those  who 


TRAVELS   IN   THE  OLD   WORLD  163 

walk  beside  thy  wondrous  river  that  flows  on  as 
it  has  since  the  world  was  young,  to  bless  thy  peo- 
ple until  its  journey  ended,  its  work  done,  it  pours 
itself  from  its  seven  mouths,  out  upon  the  sea! 
Before  thy  greatness  is  gone  and  thy  glory  buried, 
may  there  come  out  of  the  storms  that  sweep  the 
earth,  a  better  day  for  thee,  and  may  some  hand 
lift  thee  up  to  a  better  place  among  the  people  of 
the  earth!  Yea,  may  the  Christ  thou  dids't  shelter 
from  old  Herod,  who  sought  his  death,  come  to  thee 
like  Moses  from  over  Midian  sands  and  lead  thee 
out  from  the  dust-covered  centuries  to  a  greatness 
more  lasting  than  thy  pyramids! 


CHAPTER  XV. 

CLIMBING   THE   GREAT   PYRAMID 

An  experience  to  which  I  had  looked  forward  with 
keen  interest  was  that  of  climbing  the  pyramid  of 
Cheops.  While  it  is  a  hard  and  dangerous  under- 
taking, I  had  firmly  made  up  my  mind,  if  I  was  per- 
mitted to  get  there,  I  would  not  leave  until  I  had 
stood  on  top  of  this  great  wonder  of  the  world  and 
looked  out  over  the  land  of  Egypt. 

The  race  of  man  has  never  left  a  greater  wonder 
on  the  sands  of  time  than  these  pyramids  of  Egypt 
of  which  Cheops,  or  the  Great  Pyramid,  is  the  most 
famous.  No  description  or  array  of  figures  and  fan- 
cies can  give  a  clear  impression  of  this  mighty  mon- 
ster sitting  through  the  slow-going  centuries  on  the 
sands  of  the  desert.  When  you  stand  beside  it  and 
look  up  its  enormous  sides,  or  put  forth  your 
strength  to  reach  its  top,  climbing  over  its  massive 
stones  so  high  up  in  the  air,  you  almost  feel  like  the 
old  fellow  who  visited  his  first  circus.  The  elephant 
engaged  his  special  attention.  He  walked  around 
the  great  beast  several  times  gazing  in  wonder  at 
his  wonderful,  giant  form.  He  looked  at  his  tail 
and  then  at  his  snout  and  head;  he  watched  him 
take  his  food  in  his  snout  and  put  it  back  in  his 
mouth.  Unable  to  endure  the  sight  any  longer  he 
walked  away  in  disgust,  exclaiming,  "There  ain't 
no  such  animal  no  how !" 

The  base  of  this  pyramid  covers  thirteen  acres  of 
land — a  small  farm,  and  contains  eighty-five  million 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  165 

cubic  feet  of  solid  masonry.  Many  of  the  stones 
from  top  to  bottom  measure  from  four  to  six  feet 
in  their  height,  length  and  thickness,  and  look  as 
large  as  two  pianos  put  together.  How  these  great 
stones  were  ever  put  in  place  with  such  scientific 
exactness,  I  haven't  time  to  explain.  The  heighth 
is  nearly  five  hundred  feet.  It  has  masonry  enough 
in  it  to  build  a  rock  wall  ten  feet  high  and  a  foot 
and  a  half  thick  around  the  states  of  North  Caro- 
lina, South  Carolina,  Georgia,  Virginia,  Tennessee, 
Florida,  Alabama,  Mississippi  and  Louisiana,  and 
have  nearly  five  thousand  miles  of  wall  left  over. 
It  is  built  in  the  form  of  great  stairs,  and  while  the 
wearing  weather  of  centuries  and  the  still  more  de- 
structive hand  of  man  have  made  the  stones  crum- 
ble somewhat,  unless  some  earth-quake  destroys  it 
it  will  perish  only  when  Eternity's  storms  bear  all 
things  away  on  their  winds.  The  outer  surface  was 
finished  with  hard  cement  but  this  is  gone,  leaving 
the  stones  rough,  which  makes  it  safer  to  climb. 
It  must  have  been  a  sight  of  unequalled  beauty  and 
wonder  when  thus  complete,  it  stood  out  on  the 
sands  with  the  sun  shining  on  its  sides. 

Many  strange,  weird  theories  have  been  advanced 
as  to  the  plan  and  purpose  of  this  pyramid  in  the 
Divine  Plan  and  final  destiny  of  things.  These  ideas 
have  been  discussed  with  such  length  and  learning 
as  to  stagger  ordinary  minds.  It  has  been  shown 
that  the  building  is  perfect  in  its  mathematical  and 
scientific  construction,  sitting  to  the  four  points 
of  the  compass  with  no  stone  varying  a  hair's 
breadth  in  its  position.     Strange  and  extensive  re- 


166  TRAVELS   IN   THE  OLD  WORLD 

cesses  wfithin,  with  many  symbols  and  measure- 
ments, have  been  understood  to  point  out  all  the  eras 
and  events  of  the  world's  history  and  from  them  the 
learned  have  figured  with  a  final  nicety,  not  only  the 
past,  but  the  future  of  the  world's  history,  even  to 
the  day  of  its  passing  away.  Such  theories  are  wise 
and  deep  and  profound  but  miss  widely  the  mean- 
ing of  this  mystery  of  stone.  Whatever  the  Al- 
mighty had  to  do  with  its  building  He  did  not  mean 
this. 

The  question  rises,  what  is  this  strange  thing, 
and  why  would  any  set  of  men  spend  so  much  la- 
bor and  expense  to  build  such  a  structure?  The 
answer  is  simple:  It  is  a  monument  built  by  an 
Egyptian  king  for  himself,  while  he  was  living.  The 
recesses  were  for  his  body  and  those  of  his  family. 
The  Egyptians  believed  much  in  eternal  things,  but 
their  eternal  was  built  out  of  stone.  A  king  had  a 
desire  to  build  for  himself  a  monument  that  would 
end  only  with  the  world,  and  he  was  willing  to  spare 
no  expense  or  labor  in  the  undertaking.  It  must  be 
admitted,  his  success  is  wonderful,  and  yet  I  could 
not  but  think  of  the  eternal  monument  built  down 
in  Egypt  by  Joseph  and  Moses  and  not  of  stone. 
Their  monuments  will  stand.  Millions  of  children 
know  who  they  were  and  how  they  built,  but 
the  wisest  doctors  have  disagreed  on  the  man  whose 
brain  thought  out  and  hand  put  up  this  monument 
of  stone. 

Then  the  question  comes.  How  did  they  build  it? 
There  is  no  quarry  near.  How  did  they  get  these 
stones?    Where  did  they  come  from?    How  many 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  167 

men  worked  on  the  job?  How  did  they  put  them 
in  place?  How  long  did  it  take ?  It  is  not  good  form 
to  answer  all  questions.  Some  must  be  left  for  the 
students  to  find,  and  besides,  the  day  is  too  hot  to 
do  this  subject  justice,  so  I  will  hasten  on  to  what 
I  set  out  to  tell — how  I  got  up  and  down  the  Great 
Pyramid. 

We  went  on  cars  out  of  Cairo  toward  the  pyra- 
mids. At  the  end  of  the  car  line  we  transferred  to 
donkeys  and  camels,  and  turned  our  faces  toward 
the  wide  stretches  of  Sahara  sands.  Thinking  a 
camel  more  in  keeping  with  such  a  journey  I  selected 
mine.  As  I  looked  him  over  I  became  more  and  more 
impressed  with  his  ancient  mien  and  stately  dignity. 
He  seemed  to  have  the  manners  of  the  Pharaohs  and 
the  odor  of  those  dim  centuries  of  the  past.  Had 
his  owners  told  me  he  was  gotten  out  of  the  pyra- 
mids and  was  ridden  by  Pharaoh  when  he  pursued 
Israel  to  the  Red  Sea  I  should  have  raised  no  ques- 
tion. He  looked  it.  While  I  have  read  elsewhere 
Pharaoh  rode  in  a  chariot,  that  might  have  been  a 
misused  word,  for  chariot  and  camel  in  the  language 
of  Egypt,  sound  very  much  alike.  But  when  I 
looked  my  beast  in  the  face  my  feeling  of  wonder, 
ecstasy  and  reverence  knew  no  bounds.  It  seemed 
that  all  the  tragedy  of  the  centuries  and  the  woe 
of  the  world  was  stamped  upon  his  face.  I  never 
knew  before  just  how  solemn,  sad,  serene  pathetic 
tragic  a  camel  could  look.  His  lips  were  hanging 
down  in  woe  and  disgust ;  his  head  was  poised  high 
and  still.  Out  upon  the  far-off  line  of  the  desert  his 
eyes  were  gazing  at  nothing  in  particular  unless 


168  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

they  were  trying  to  rest  upon  the  beginning  line  of 
Egypt's  history.  At  the  sign  from  his  driver  the 
camel  lay  down  with  precision  and  care.  I  mounted 
to  the  saddle  and  at  a  punch  from  the  driver  he 
groaned  and  complained  as  though  he  bore  on  his 
back  the  woe  of  the  world.  But  he  began  to  get  up. 
He  started  to  get  up  behind  as  all  cud-chewing 
beasts  should,  and  he  kept  on  getting  up  behind  be- 
fore he  started  to  get  up  in  front,  until  I  was  afraid 
he  would  get  up  all  the  way  behind  before  he  got 
up  at  all  in  front.  When  he  had  gotten  up  behind 
until  he  seemed  to  be  on  a  line  with  the  top  of  the 
pyramid,  he  started  to  get  up  in  front  and  I  thought 
he  would  get  up  in  front  beyond  where  he 
had  got  up  behind.  At  length  he  stopped  getting 
up  and  I  suppose  he  was  all  up,  but  when  I  looked 
at  him  in  front  he  looked  higher  than  he  did  behind 
and  when  I  looked  at  him  behind  he  looked  higher 
than  he  did  in  front. 

At  length  we  started  for  the  pyramid,  some  on 
camels  and  some  on  donkeys.  When  I  tried  to  guide 
my  beast  or  induce  him  to  go  faster  he  rolled  his 
eyes  up  at  me,  dropped  his  lower  lip  still  lower, 
lolled  out  his  tongue,  humped  up  his  back  and  bel- 
lowed out  in  a  way  that  made  me  entirely  agree 
with  what  he  said.  Every  camel  and  donkey  had 
a  driver  with  a  large  number  thrown  in  for  good 
measure.  They  were  along  to  entertain  us  and  make 
the  journey  seem  short  by  crying  out  for  back- 
sheesh, begging  to  tell  our  fortunes  rubbing  our 
feet  with  their  uncanny  hands  and  other  innocent 
pastimes.    My  driver  Mohammed,  soon  managed  to 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  169 

get  my  beast  out  of  line  with  the  others  and  at  my 
question  as  to  the  meaning  of  it  he  informed  me 
there  was  something  very  interesting  behind  a  near- 
by sand  dune  that  he  wanted  me  to  see  as  it  would 
take  only  a  few  minutes.  I  stormed  at  him  like  I 
meant  to  feed  his  flesh  to  the  eagles,  post  haste,  and 
ordered  him  back  in  line  under  all  the  penalties  I 
could  remember,  chief  of  which,  not  a  coin  would  he 
get  unless  he  went,  and  he  went. 

When  we  reached  the  great  wonder  of  the  desert 
we  prepared  to  gaze  up  its  age-long  sides,  lost  in  ad- 
miration, but  it  was  not  to  be  so,  at  least,  not  just 
then.  Rather,  we  forgot  the  greatness  of  Egypt's 
past  as  we  faced  the  greediness  of  Egypt's  present. 
It  seemed  that  they  rose  from  the  sands  or  fell 
down  from  the  sky  like  a  flock  of  big  white  birds. 
They  bore  down  upon  us,  a  mighty  company  of  eagles 
that  gather  about  the  pyramid  to  feed  upon  the  tour- 
ists. These  guides  are  Egyptians  who  wear  white 
garments  and  go  bare-foot.  In  the  evening  shadows, 
in  their  robes,  under  the  great  pyramid,  they  seemed 
spirits  of  a  dead  age  and  we  seemed  in  the  ceme- 
tery of  dead  dynasties.  The  whole  atmosphere  seemed 
so  mixed  with  the  supernatural  and  the  satanic, 
the  dead  and  the  living,  the  past  and  the  future, 
that  a  hypnotic  trance  seemed  to  come  down  upon  us 
and  fixed  us  so  these  fellows  could  play  us  in  their 
hands.  Nobody  can  describe  the  atmosphere  about 
the  pyramids  and  how  these  fellows  carry  on  their 
business.  I  doubt  if  the  world  could  produce  a  set 
of  men  who  can  skin  you  with  better  skill  and  send 
you  away  happy,  like  they  do.    You  go  away  penni- 


170  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

less  but  charmed,  and  in  the  chambers  of  your  soul, 
where  you  keep  your  acquaintances,  you  give  them 
the  front  seats.    They  are  wonderful  fellows. 

The  British  government  requires  two  of  these 
guides  to  accompany  each  tourist.  One  is  to  hold 
while  the  other  skins.  You  feel  you  can  make  the 
journey  without  help  but  it  isn't  long  until  you  are 
glad  you  have  two  and  you  would  be  glad  for  another 
one.  I  selected  two  of  the  oldest  and  steadiest  look- 
ing ones  I  saw.  They  were  both  Egyptian  doctors, 
Dr.  Macboon,  the  more  charming  of  the  two,  was 
indeed  an  interesting  gentleman.  (I  enquired 
of  my  old  friend  on  my  recent  visit  and  learned 
he  died  of  the  ravages  of  war.)  He  informed  us 
he  was  the  man  who  carried  Mark  Twain  up,  and 
whom  Mark  offered  a  hundred  dollars  to  jump  off 
and  break  his  neck.  However  I  met  about  twenty 
others  who  also  claimed  the  honor.  They  certainly 
do  know  Mark  Twain  around  the  pyramids.  The  doc- 
tor also  told  me  he  carried  the  late  King  Edward  of 
England  up  to  the  top  when  he  was  Prince  of  Wales 
and  in  proof  of  the  fact  showed  me  where  the  prince 
carved  his  royal  name  and  the  date.  One  of  the  medi- 
cine men  took  me  by  one  arm  and  the  other  by  the 
other  arm  and  I  started  sky-ward  with  the  feeling 
that  I  was  either  going  to  an  executive  chair  or  an 
electric  chair.  When  we  came  to  two  paths  up  the 
rocks  where  feet  for  centuries  had  climbed,  one  of 
them  would  go  one  way  with  part  of  me  and  the 
other  the  other  way  with  the  rest  of  me,  and  when 
they  went  to  lift  me  from  one  of  the  high  ledges  to 
the  other,  one  would  go  up  with  part  of  me  and  the 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  171 

other  would  lag  behind  with  the  other  part.    When 
it  seemed  we  had  gone  almost  to  the  front  door  of 
the  moon,  Dr.  Macboon  asked  if  I  wanted  to  rest. 
I  tried  to  nod  my  head.    We  sat  down  on  a  ledge  of 
rock  somewhere  between  heaven  and  earth  and  he 
asked  me  to  look  down  at  the  view.    I  had  lost  most 
of  my  sense  but  I  had  enough  not  to  look  down.    One 
sat  on  each  side  of  me  as  close  as  they  could  get, 
holding  my  hand  and  looking  with  all  their  power 
into  my  soul,  like  two  snakes  charming  a  bird  to  his 
doom.    They  pressed  my  hands  and  rubbed  them  in 
a  way  that  made  creeping  chills  in  spite  of  the  heat, 
run  through  my  blood.     Their  sharp  black '  eyes 
seemed  saintly  and  satanic.    Their  face  so  close  to 
mine  wore  a  dusky  veil  from  buried  centuries.  Their 
voices  were  soft  and  low  and  sweet  and  calm,  and 
yet  fiendish  in  their  insidious  penetration.     They 
seemed  to  link  the  dead  and  dusty  past  with  the 
dim  and  distant  future.     Before  me  stretched  the 
wide  expanse  of  Sahara's  sands  with  mighty  waves, 
all  still  as  though  the  hand  of  God  had  struck  an 
ocean  dead.    A  caravan  of  camels — ships  of  the  des- 
ert— far  out  on  the  horizon,  like  a  fleet,  moved  slow- 
ly, bringing  spices  down  to  Egypt.     The  sun  was 
going  down  across  the  desert,  where  a  sea  of  sand 
merged  into  a  sea  of  fire.     The  light  was  shining 
on  the  sides  of  this  old  rock  mountain,  built  when 
the  world  was  young,  and  it  was  shining  on  the 
ghostly  forms  holding  my  hands  and  whispering  in 
my  ear.    They  asked  if  they  were  satisfying  me,  I 
said  they  were;  they  then  wanted  me  to  satisfy 
them,  and  then  and  there  pay  them  the  first  instal- 


172  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

ment  of  what  money  I  had,  feeling  sure  they  would 
get  it  all  before  they  told  me  good-bye.  Did  I  get 
scared  and  hand  over  my  money  as  most  tourists 
do?  No;  as  strange  as  it  may  seem  I  was  charmed, 
half  dazed  with  the  feat  before  me,  intoxicated  with 
the  atmosphere  about  me,  I  felt  my  blood  throb  for 
adventure.  I  was  ready  to  go  or  come.  There  was  a 
game  before  me  and  in  my  dazed  condition  I  longed 
to  play  it.  So  I  resolved  to  hold  my  nerve,  for  with 
them,  once  your  nerve  is  gone,  you  are  gone.  I 
refused  to  pay  by  installment  but  told  them  to  take 
me  up  and  down  safely  and  I  would  treat  them  right. 
Dr.  Macboon  then  wanted  to  tell  my  fortune.  I 
told  him  I  did  not  care  to  have  my  fortune  told,  I 
was  trying  to  forget  the  past  and  didn't  want  him 
digging  that  up  and  just  at  that  time  I  thought  it  un- 
wise to  nose  into  the  future.  I  didn't  think  that  was 
any  time  or  place  for  such  performances.  He  then 
put  his  hand  back  in  his  belt  or  sash  and  began  to 
bring  out  things  for  my  inspection.  The  first  was 
a  little  mummy-like  Pharaoh  he  had  gotten  out  of 
the  pyramid  and  he  wanted  to  sell  it  to  me.  I  told 
him  I  had  not  expected  to  go  in  the  undertaking 
business  and  did  not  care  to  have  a  corpse  on  my 
hands,  ascending  the  pyramid,  but  if  the  corpse  was 
alright  and  he  would  carry  it  down  for  me,  I  would 
take  it.  He  wanted  pay  then  but  I  told  him  I  would 
not  pay  him  until  we  reached  the  end  of  our  journey, 
then  I  would  pay  him  what  I  thought  it  was  worth. 
He  next  brought  out  some  sacred  bugs.  These  I 
likewise  bargained  for  as  I  did  other  things.  His 
belt  was  a  regular  museum. 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  173 

When  rested,  we  resumed  our  journey  and  after  a 
few  repetitions  of  our  first  rest  spell,  found  our- 
selves on  the  top  of  the  great  pyramid  looking  out 
on  the  sands.  Dr.  Macboon  told  me  I  was  faint  and 
needed  something  to  revive  me.  I  readily  agreed  to 
this  but  asked  him  what  I  could  get  up  there.  He 
turned  around  behind  to  an  Egyptian  sitting  on  his 
feet  beside  some  burning  charcoals  and  handed  me  a 
cup  of  the  best  coffee  I  have  ever  tasted,  for  which  I 
paid  him  five  cents.  I  told  the  doctor  that  pre- 
scription cost  less  and  did  more  good  than  was 
sometimes  the  case  in  America.  Several  of  our  folks 
were  almost  exhausted  when  they  reached  the  top. 
It  was  a  wonderful  sight.  The  area  on  top  is  thirty 
feet  square,  composed  of  huge  stones. 

After  a  period  of  rest  and  meditation  we  de- 
scended. At  the  bottom  our  parting  came.  It  is  a 
matter  of  getting  away  from  them  any  way  yau  can. 
I  offered  Dr.  Macboon  a  sum  for  his  trinkets,  which 
I  knew  he  would  not  take.  He  gave  me  an  Egyptian 
water  pitcher  which  I  greatly  appreciated  and  car- 
ried through  all  the  rest  of  the  journey  and  brought 
home.  It  sets  on  the  table  before  me  as  I  write.  In 
the  Oriental  style  I  gave  him  a  gift  of  some  money 
in  return  (not  buying  but  exchanging  presents)  I 
then  paid  them  thirty  cents  each  for  their  services 
and  went  my  way.  Some  were  out  many  times  this. 
In  values  as  they  are  there,  this  was  more  than  they 
were  worth,  but  I  was  very  much  surprised  to  get 
off  so  easy.  That  climb  was  a  very  violent  ex- 
perience. My  clothes  were  torn  to  pieces  and  I  was 
sore  for  a  week. 


174  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

The  Sphinx — another  wonder  of  the  world — 
stands  near  the  great  pyramid.  It  was  a  heathen 
temple  used  by  the  Egyptians  for  funeral  services 
and  other  religious  rites.  The  Sphinx  stands  in  front 
of  the  temple  itself  which  is  almost  buried  with 
the  sands,  which  must  constantly  be  cleaned  away  to 
prevent  the  winds  from  covering  it  up  deeper.  It 
is  a  great  stone  monster  with  the  head  of  a  human 
and  the  body  of  a  lion  which  represents  a  union  of 
intelligence  and  strength.  It  measures  in  height 
sixty-four  feet.  It  seems  to  stand  here  on  the  edge 
of  the  sea  of  sand  and  on  the  edge  of  the  centuries 
guarding  ancient  Egypt's  buried  treasures.  That 
motionless  face  gazes  out  on  the  sands  and  the  cen- 
turies. The  stare  upon  its  face  is  strange,  mystic, 
painful.  It  seems  to  fix  its  gaze  beyond  the  things 
that  are  to  be.  Certainly  its  gaze  is  fixed  on  things 
far  off  and  not  on  us.  It  has  thus  been  looking  on 
things  while  the  slow  moving  centuries  have  moved 
over  its  heads  and  storms  that  no  man  can  number 
have  dashed  their  rain,  wind  and  sands  in  its  face. 
Those  set  eyes  were  gazing  as  they  are  now  before 
a  single  living  nation  was  born.  They  have  looked 
on  kingdoms'  flourish  and  fall.  They  beheld  Rome 
in  her  glory  and  Rome  in  her  gloom.  They  looked 
on  Greece  in  her  sun  shine  and  Greece  in  her  shad- 
ows. They  were  looking  on  before  there  was  an 
England  or  an  English  race.  They  saw  the  Nile 
roll  on  before  Abraham  came  down  to  Egypt  and 
they  saw  Israel  go  out  on  their  hunt  for  the  Prom- 
ised Land.  This  object  is  supposed  to  be  the  oldest 
remaining  work  of  man's  hands.    The  head  is  per- 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  175 

fectly  formed  and  the  features  in  the  main  have 
stood  the  weather  of  the  centuries  without  being 
destroyed.  The  head  is  carved  from  one  huge  piece 
of  stone  and  is  a  hundred  and  two  feet  around.  The 
time,  labor  and  skill  in  producing  this  mammoth 
figure  with  all  its  perfect  features  and  workman- 
ship history  does  not  say  and  man  does  not  know. 
It  has  no  beauty  to  be  admired  but  there  comes  a 
strange  charm,  as,  looking  in  its  face  you  see  how 
lonely,  how  still,  how  changeless  it  has  been  through 
the  centuries.  The  face  has  not  moved,  the  eyes 
have  not  closed,  the  lips  have  not  spoken  and  yet, 
as  you  look,  those  eyes  seem  to  see,  that  head  seems 
to  hold  countless  secrets  in  a  throbbing  brain  and 
those  lips  seem  about  to  tell  you  many  things. 
"0  Voiceless  Sphinx 

Thy  solemn  lips  are  dumb, 
Time's  awful  secrets  holdest  thou  in  thy  breast, 

Age  follows  age — revering  pilgrims  come 
From  every  clime  to  urge  the  same  request 

That  thou  woulds't  speak.  Poor  creatures  of  a  day, 
In  calm  disdain  thou  seest  them  die  away. 
0  Voiceless  Sphinx." 

MY  FORTUNE  IS  TOLD  ON  THE  PYRAMID 

I  have  never  believed  in  fortune  tellers.  I  was 
raised  to  believe  they  were  servants  of  the  devil. 
On  my  first  visit  to  Egypt,  I  maintained  my  integ- 
rity on  this  point.  I  went  and  came  without  allow- 
ing the  snaky  eyes  of  an  Egyptian  mystic  to  gaze 
in  mv  hand.    But  the  last  visit,  when  I  reached  the 


176  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD  WORLD 

Pyramids,  I  backslid.  I  made  the  tours  without 
drinking  strong  drink,  or  murdering  any  European 
waiters  and  pirates  which  is  a  commendable  record. 
I  did  not  cut  loose  from  my  moral  moorings  like 
some  tourists,  who  are  high  up  at  home  but  low 
down  away  from  home,  but  when  I  reached  the 
heights  of  the  Pyramid  of  Cheops,  I  fell.  This  is  a 
good  place  to  fall  in  more  ways  than  one.  Stately 
Presbyterian  Elders,  who  have  kept  in  the  middle  of 
the  road  of  the  perseverence  of  saints,  have  slipped 
up  here  and  said  things  and  done  things  under  these 
provocations,  that  they  had  never  done  before  and 
will  never  do  again.  Orthodox  Episcopal  Vestrymen 
and  Rectors  have  caused  their  robes  to  trail  in  the 
dust  of  Egypt's  dead  dynasties  when  they  met  the 
temptations  of  the  Pyramids,  and  long  after  they 
reach  home  they  sadly  say,  "We  have  done  many 
things,  we  ought  not  to  have  done  and  left  undone 
t>i any  things  we  ought  to  have  done."  And  Baptists 
and  Methodists  with  their  weakness  and  bent  to 
sinning,  stand  no  more  chance  of  getting  out  without 
backsliding  than  a  mouse  going  thru  a  cattery. 

As  before,  we  rode  our  camels  over  the  sandy 
path  to  the  base  of  this  mountain  of  rock.  As  soon 
as  we  crossed  the  line  of  safety,  they  bore  down  upon 
us.  There  was  a  small  army  of  these  guides,  ven- 
ders, fortune  tellers,  beggars,  doctors,  sheiks,  sen- 
tinals,  quack  performers,  advisors,  photographers, 
donkey  boys,  camel  boys,  and  several  others  I  do  not 
classify.  It  was  a  hungry  horde  of  hideous  hounds, 
and  every  second  the  mass  grew  larger,  drawing  re- 
cruits in  a  mysterious  way  from  nobody  knows 


>. 

- 


in 

£ 

g 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  177 

where.  They  seemed  to  drop  out  of  the  sky,  crawl 
out  of  the  ground  and  appear  by  magic.  One  would 
be  whispering  in  your  ear,  with  his  hot  breath  on 
your  cheek,  and  you  didn't  know  where  he  came 
from.  They  begged,  teased,  pled,  talked,  danced,  sang 
and  pressed  their  case  in  such  varied  and  persistent 
ways,  that  you  were  soon  like  a  bird  in  a  snake  cage. 
You  declined,  threatened,  yelled,  roared,  pawed  and 
said  emphatic  things  while  they  sweetly  smiled  and 
came  back  unabashed. 

I  remembered  what  was  said  about  Moses  not  far 
from  here,  when  he  saw  some  of  these  fellows  pester- 
ing a  fellow  Hebrew.  He  looked  this  way  and  that, 
and  when  he  saw  no  one  was  looking  he  slew  the 
Egyptian  and  buried  him  in  the  sand.  Time  after 
time  I  tried  this  but  others  were  always  looking. 

One  poor  brother  had  been  bedraggled,  pestered 
and  tormented  until  his  money  was  gone  as  well  as 
his  patience,  with  his  hair  standing  up  and  his  eyes 
shining  like  a  madman  he  yelled. 

"I  aint  going  to  give  you  narry  nother  cent.  You 
didn't  do  what  you  promised.  I  will  take  your  picture 
and  report  you  to  the  police." 

And  Frank  McKJnney  of  Petersburg — he  who  was 
always  so  gentle,  kind  and  quiet  with  such  good 
manners — when  all  his  patience  ran  thru  that  sand 
and  fire  flashed  in  his  eyes,  I  covered  my  face  and 
stopped  my  ears  to  shut  out  the  tragedy. 

And  Dr.  Squires,  the  Presbyterian — he  looked  and 
acted  like  another  man.  I  am  sure  he  needed  a 
Methodist  revival  after  it  was  all  over.  I  shall 
never  forget  the  faces  of  Mrs.  Jarrett  and  Miss 


178  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

Warlick,  as  the  camels  began  to  bellow  and  get  up 
in  sections. 

But  never,  no  never  can  I  forget  my  comrade 
Welch.  This  is  where  all  his  reason  took  the  wings 
of  the  morning  and  flew  up  the  Nile  over  the  Mo- 
kattem  hills.  His  eyes  had  that  look  that  makes  you 
feel  like  calling  for  the  fire  department,  the  police 
and  an  alienist.  He  got  on  a  camel,  yelled  some- 
thing that  almost  made  the  Sphinx  break  her  long 
silence,  and  hitting  that  camel  on  the  back  with  his 
kodak,  fled  out  on  the  wide  wastes  of  burning  sands 
toward  Sahara's  stretches  and  Sudan's  fastness. 
I  don't  know  where  he  went.  The  last  time  I  saw 
him  he  disappeared  behind  a  sand  hill,  his  coatta^l 
flying  as  the  camel  with  his  wonderful  waltz  made 
thirty-seven  miles  an  hour,  his  tail  straight  out  be- 
hind (of  course)  and  his  head  poised  straight  out 
in  front  (of  course)  while  about  forty  of  these 
wolves  and  pirates  went  with  all  speed  after  their 
victim. 

I  never  expected  to  see  him  again.  I  was  plan- 
ning to  take  charge  of  his  museum  and  become  his 
executor.  But  he  did  turn  up.  He  steered  his  brute 
in  a  semicircle,  keeping  out  of  the  way  of  his  pur- 
suers until  he  beat  them  back  to  British  territory 
and  landed  at  the  feet  of  an  officer. 

The  ascent  of  the  Pyramid  and  the  Pyramid  it- 
self is  described  elsewhere  and  I  will  only  mention 
now  the  fortune  telling  on  the  top.  There  is  not  in 
all  the  world,  a  place  more  weird,  romantic,  spooky, 
fascinating,  mystic  than  the  top  of  Egypt's  Pyramid, 
as  you  set  there  gazing  on  the  delta.    With  the  Nile 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  179 

and  Cairo,  Memphis,  the  Mokattem  hills  and  rich 
fields  in  one  direction  and  the  eternal  wastes  of  sand 
stretching  out  in  the  other  direction.  There  is  some- 
thing strange  that  seems  to  rise  up  in  your  face  and 
sweep  you  under  its  intoxicating  spell.  It  was  while 
thus  sitting  on  the  summit  of  Cheops,  that  the  for- 
tune teller  took  my  hand  and  said  he  would  read  my 
future  for  40  cents.  Then  I  fell — I  backslid  right 
then   and  there  and  let  him  do  it. 

He  poured  out  a  bag  of  magic  sand  and  smoothed 
it  out  on  the  rock.  All  the  time  he  was  looking  into 
the  sun,  muttering  strange  things,  while  with  his 
hands  he  made  still  stranger  signs  and  motions.  He 
drew  figures  in  the  sand,  put  his  face  down  close 
to  the  sand  pile  and  did  more  weird  spooky 
mutterings.  He  then  took  my  hand,  read  the 
line  a  second,  looked  in  the  sand  a  second,  and 
muttered  something  which  was  explained  to  me  by 
his  assistant.    My  fortune  as  he  told  it  was  this — 

I  would  never  be  more  than  moderately  rich.  I 
am  sure  he  was  safe  on  that.  I  was  to  be  successful. 
I  was  energetic  and  had  a  good  disposition.  Some- 
thing was  on  my  mind,  which  was  true.  Everybody 
has  something  on  his  mind  save  Boob  McNutt  and 
Happy  Hooligan.  He  said  I  would  soon  get  two 
important  letters,  which  turned  out  to  be  true.  Most 
letters  are  important  and  most  folks  now  and  then 
get  letters.  One  came  three  days  later  from  my 
wife,  telling  me  to  be  sure  and  keep  my  face  clean 
when  I  went  to  London,  and  another  came  from  a 
Texas  Oil  Co.,  offering  to  make  me  a  millionaire  if 


180  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

I  would  buy  a  share  of  stock  at  ten  dollars  down  and 
the  same  at  each  full  moon  until  the  cows  came  home. 
He  then  rolled  the  white  of  his  eyes  over  toward  the 
Mokattem  hills,  looked  closer  in  my  hand  and  said 
my  greatest  success  was  ahead  of  me.  I  would 
change  my  position  as  well  as  my  residence  in  a 
short  time  and  enter  something  entirely  new.  Next 
year  I  would  be  happier  than  I  had  ever  been.  Of 
course  this  has  turned  out  to  be  exactly  true.  I  was 
to  my  surprise  elected  Editor  of  the  Richmond 
Christian  Advocate  and  ought  to  be  happy.  Then  he 
told  me  if  I  would  place  eighteen  more  piasters  in 
his  itching  palm,  he  would  tell  me  a  much  better  for- 
tune. I  told  him  this  one  was  entirely  satisfactory 
and  if  he  told  me  one  any  better,  I  would  be  so  over- 
come, he  would  have  to  carry  me  down  from  the 
Pyramid. 

THE  SHEIK  AND  THE  SHRIEK 

While  we  were  at  the  Pyramid,  a  rare  character 
drove  up.  He  was  a  distinguished  looking  oriental, 
adorned  in  striking  regalia  with  a  great  display  of 
many  colors.  He  looked  like  a  cross  between  the 
High  Priest  of  the  Potentates  of  Potolemy  and  a 
plain  faker.  He  rode  in  a  chariot  that  was  a  relic 
of  the  dark  ages  of  the  past  and  the  moontide  of 
the  present.  It  had  big  iron  wheels  of  the  threshing 
machine  variety  and  a  body  on  the  Cleopatra  type. 
It  was  drawn  by  a  flee  bitten  mouse  colored  ass. 
We  were  told  he  was  the  Sheik  of  these  tribes  and 
had  made  a  personal  visit  here  to  see  that  we  were 
properly  treated.     For  this  favor  and  protection 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  181 

all  tourists  were  expected  to  make  his  Sheikship  a 
present.  I  never  knew  just  what  protection  he  gave 
us. 

Then  came  the  Shriek.  We  call  him  this  because 
of  his  voice.  He  was  a  duck  legged  little  Egyptian 
with  a  shrieking  voice  like  his  radiator  was  leaking. 
His  eyes  were  snappy  as  a  snake's.  He  offered  to  run 
to  the  top  of  the  Pyramid  and  back  in  twelve  minutes 
if  we  would  give  him  two  piasters  (8j)  each.  He 
came  bowing  before  me  as  if  I  was  the  Governor 
and  asked  my  permission  to  go.  I  told  him  he  could 
go  but  I  would  not  be  responsible  for  the  pay,  nor 
the  support  of  his  family  after  he  committed  suicide. 
My  words  were  lost  on  the  desert  sands.  He  was 
off  like  a  streak.  Piasters  to  these  pirates  had  been 
scarce  and  he  would  do  the  daring  deed  and  get  the 
backsheesh  later  if  he  could.  I  knew  we  would  have 
a  big  fuss  about  it,  but  it  was  well  enough.  We  had 
to  have  a  fuss  about  something  and  it  just  as  well 
be  this  as  anything  else. 

He  made  the  trip  back  in  less  than  twelve  minutes. 
Some  folks  expected  him  to  fall  dead  from  the  heat 
and  exertion  but  he  did  not.  He  looked  like  a  wild 
man.  His  hair  was  standing  up,  his  eyes  red  and 
protruding,  his  mouth  open,  his  nostrills  distended 
and  he  was  gasping  for  breath  like  a  wind  broken 
horse  in  a  fire  race.  But  he  was  after  collecting  his 
piasters.  He  shrieked,  cried,  yelled,  fell  down, 
moaned  and  did  like  a  mad  man.  He  tried  to  force 
me  to  pay  him  for  everybody  and  I  almost  had  to 
club  him  to  keep  him  off  of  me.  He  kept  on  until  he 
collected  from  almost  all,  and  he  earned  every  piaster 


182  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD      - 

he  got.    Of  all  the  fool  things  I  ever  saw  a  fool  do 
for  money,  that  was  the  limit. 

CAIRO  UNIVERSITY 

It  was  my  pleasure  and  privilege  while  abroad  to 
register  as  a  student  in  Cairo  University  which  has 
the  largest  enrollment  of  any  institution  of  learning 
in  the  world.  I  was  duly  awarded  a  regular  degree 
from  this  University.  It  was  given  me  in  due  form 
by  the  Dean,  and  is  kept  as  a  treasure.  It  has  an 
enrollment  of  over  fourteen  thousand  students.  I 
had  heard  of  its  wonders  but  like  Miss  Sheba,  they 
didn't  tell  me  fifty  percent  of  the  whole.  Barnum 
was  an  armateur  at  burlesque  compared  to  tke 
faculty  of  Cairo  University.  Instead  of  a  great 
building,  we  found  a  dirty  old  mosque  well  filled  with 
beggars,  dogs  and  cooties.  All  these  are  perhaps 
enrolled  as  students.  It  is  in  the  dirtiest  section  of 
Cairo  and  that  is  saying  a  good  deal.  Beggars, 
babies  and  dogs  slept  on  the  floor  and  women  were 
drying  their  wash  in  one  end  of  the  mosque.  Sev- 
eral classes  sat  in  groups  on  the  floor  on  their  feet 
and  moaned  and  drawled  thru  their  noses  as  they 
kept  time  by  weaving  their  bodies  back  and  forth 
as  the  teacher  directed.  They  used  pieces  of  tin 
and  marked  on  them  with  black  paint.  All  who  enter 
the  grounds  are  counted  as  students.  A  number  of 
donkeys  stood  in  the  court  too  lazy  to  switch  off  the 
flies.  As  I  looked  at  my  degree,  I  saw  D.  D.  on  it.  I 
had  been  honored  in  the  East  by  Cairo  University. 
The  greatest  institution  on  earth  had  conferred 
upon  me  the  degree  of  donkey  driver. 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  183 

THE  BEAD  BOY  OF  CAIRO 

He  had  all  the  charm  of  the  East.  His  manner 
was  gentle  and  gracious,  his  voice  soft  and  musical, 
his  smile  winning,  is  movements  like  a  spirit  and  his 
whole  personality  mystic.  His  name  was  Moham- 
med and  his  name  told  his  faith.  But  he  was  not 
like  most  Mohammedans — distant,  repulsive,  dis- 
trustful. He  seemed  never  so  happy  as  when  he 
could  noiselessly,  mysteriously  appear  beside  an 
American  and  talk  to  him.  He  never  seemed  to  be 
an  intruder,  and  no  matter  when  he  approached  you, 
you  never  felt  he  was  out  of  place. 

Other  venders  were  kept  out  of  the  hotel  but 
Mohammed  had  right  of  way  on  the  inside.  The  pa- 
trons wanted  him  about.  He  didn't  seem  to  be  sell- 
ing beads.  His  whole  business  seemed  to  be  to  help 
by  giving  information  of  all  kinds  to  those  about  the 
hotel.  But  he  was  selling  beads  all  the  same.  Morn- 
ing, noon  and  night  he  sold  them.  He  was  dressed 
in  Oriental  style,  and  many  strings  of  beads  hung 
from  his  neck.  He  attracted  attention  to  his  beads 
without  letting  you  know  it  and  soon  you  were  in- 
terested in  them.  If  you  saw  a  shining  string  and 
wanted  them,  he  quickly  advised  you  as  a  friend  not 
to  buy  them,  showing  you  their  defect  and  comparing 
them  with  the  genuine.  You  felt  he  had  saved  you 
from  a  foolish  deal  and  you  bought  the  other  beads. 
If  he  found  a  certain  bead  was  popular,  he  appeared 
later  with  more  like  them.  If  you  asked  for  any 
kind  that  he  did  not  have,  the  next  thing  you  knew 
he  stood  by  your  side  as  if  he  rose  from  the  floor 


184  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

with  his  sunny  smile,  holding  those  beads  in  his 
hands.  There  was  nothing  you  wanted  or  wanted  to 
know  that  Mohammed  didn't  bring  to  you  on  short 
order.  In  all  our  homes,  the  ladies  are  wearing  beads 
bought  from  him  and  we  will  not  soon  forget  him. 
If  Mohammed  could  come  to  America  and  become 
a  salesman,  he  would  soon  be  in  the  firm  of  some  big 
establishment.  He  is  a  master  artist  in  opening  the 
combination  door  of  your  heart,  so  he  can  walk  in, 
sit  down  and  sell  you  his  wares. 

THE  MODERN  MAGICIANS  OF  EGYPT 

I  asked  Mohammed  if  he  could  find  a  magician  and 
send  him  to  the  hotel  that  night.  He  said  he  had  a 
boy  friend,  who  knew  the  art,  and  he  would  send 
him  around.  After  supper  as  I  read  near  the  hotel 
window  that  opened  on  the  street,  I  heard  a  sound 
in  the  window — "Br-br-urh-rrh" — and  looking  up, 
I  saw  a  big  white  rabbit  sitting  on  the  window  look- 
ing at  me.  Guessing  correctly  the  meaning  of  it,  I 
looked  out  in  the  street  and  saw  Mohammed  and  a 
youth,  who  claimed  to  be  a  lineal  descendant  of  the 
Master  Craft  of  Egyptian  magicians.  And  he  proved 
himself  well  able  to  establish  his  claim.  We  got 
permission  to  use  the  hotel  drawing  room  and  took 
him  and  our  party  there  for  one  of  the  most  interest- 
ing demonstrations  they  ever  witnessed.  It  would 
be  impossible  for  me  to  even  poorly  describe  all  he 
did  but  a  few  things  will  be  mentioned. 

He  pulled  several  eggs  out  of  tjie  rabbit's  nose  for 
in  some  mystic  way,  everything  seemed  to  depend 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD  WORLD  185 

on  the  rabbit.  Then  he  told  two  of  us  to  hold  the 
ends  of  a  cane,  which  we  did  with  great  care.  He 
took  a  lady's  ring  put  it  in  his  handerchief  and  then 
wrapped  the  handerchief  about  the  cane,  jerked  it 
off  and  behold  the  ring  was  on  the  cane  and  how  he 
ever  got  the  cane  thru  the  ring  with  each  of  us  hold- 
ing an  end,  is  a  mystery,  I  can't  solve.  Th*  ring  then 
disappeartd  and  he  located  it  in  a  brass  cup.  He  had 
a  set  of  ten  cups  within  one  another  and  the  lids 
fastened.  The  ring  was  inside  of  the  last  cup  and 
you  could  hear  it  before  he  even  touched  the  cups. 
The  ring  got  away  from  him  again  and  a  man  found 
it  inside  of  his  coat  pocket,  and  so  far  as  I  could  see, 
he  did  not  get  closer  than  eight  feet  to  that  man. 
He  pulled  many  strange  things  out  of  his  ears,  eyes 
and  nose,  and  did  other  stunts  too  numerous  to  relate. 
He  closed  by  blowing  fire  and  smoke  out  of  his  mouth 
and  nose  while  thru  the  flames,  he  drew  out  bunting 
containing  all  the  flags  of  the  Allies — all  out  of  his 
mouth.  He  was  not  over  eighteen  but  he  was  a 
genius  of  the  A  grade  and  would  make  his  mark  as 
well  as  money  in  America. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 
AMONG  THE  TRADERS  AND  BEGGARS  OF  THE  EAST. 

One  of  the  most  interesting  things  in  our  travels 
in  the  East  was  trading  with  the  people  and  con- 
tending with  the  beggars,  for  the  most  prolific  crop 
these  countries  raise  is  traders  and  beggars.  They 
block  your  way  in  almost  every  path  and  street; 
they  follow  on  your  trail  in  hot  and  hungry  hordes ; 
they  come  upon  you  streaming  out  of  alleys,  huts 
and  holes;  they  swarm  from  the  earth  like  armies 
of  locusts  to  devour  every  living  thing;  they  clamor 
about  the  windows  of  your  hotels  like  hungry 
wolves  waiting  to  tear  you  to  pieces  as  soon  as  you 
get  outside.  They  press  their  claims;  they  ply 
their  trades ;  they  thrust  their  wares  upon  you,  each 
one  pressing  the  other  and  all  squalling  as  they 
recommend  their  goods  and  try  to  make  a  sale. 

And  beggars,  beggars,  beggars!  Like  vultures 
and  eagles  that  darken  the  sky;  like  reptiles  that 
crawl  the  earth  at  your  feet,  they  waylay  you,  be- 
siege you  and  follow  you.  Old  and  young  men  and 
women,  girls  and  children,  halt  and  maimed,  deaf 
and  dumb,  cripple  and  blind  (many  just  afflicted  for 
your  benefit)  ragged  and  dirty  bundles  of  germs 
and  filth,  they  are  waiting  for  you  when  you  come, 
stick  to  you  while  you  are  there  and  see  you  de- 
part for  home.  From  the  time  you  cross  the  line 
of  Turkey's  domains  until  you  leave  it,  multitudes 
of  dirty  hands  are  held  out  to  you  and  a  ceaseless 
roar  of  voices  is  crying  in  your  ears  the  shrieking, 
moaning,  jabbering  call,  "Backsheesh,  backsheesh. " 


TRAVELS   IN   THE  OLD   WORLD  187 

There  is  nothing  like  it  anywhere.  With  these 
things  still  in  your  mind  when  asked  what  these  peo- 
ple live  on  we  have  not  ceased  to  say  "Tourists." 

While  the  traders  were  extremely  annoying  to 
me  at  first,  they  soon  became  a  source  of  increasing 
fascination  and  entertainment  and  day  by  day  to 
meet  them  in  their  bickerings  and  barter  away  some 
pennies  was  one  of  the  keenest  pleasures  J  could  find. 

The  first  thing  in  trading  in  a  foreign  country 
of  course,  is  to  have  some  knowledge  of  the  money; 
so  it  is  best  when  you  come  to  a  strange  country 
and  want  to  do  some  trading  to  go  to  your  hotel 
clerk,  or  to  some  leading  store  or  to  the  office  of 
Thomas  Cook  &  Co.  where  English  is  always  spoken. 
Be  sure  not  to  fall  in  the  hands  of  the  professional 
money  changers  for  they  will  fleece  you  and  load 
you  down  with  worthless  money.  When  you  re- 
ceive money  from  checks  or  gold,  stay  by  until  you 
have  a  fair  knowledge  of  the  coins  they  have  given 
you.  Fix  in  your  mind  as  you  look  at  these  coins 
the  American  coin  that  comes  the  nearest  to  them 
in  value.  French  and  English  gold  is  good  any- 
where, but  your  money  will  be  more  convenient  and 
much  safer  to  be  carried  in  travelers'  checks  fixed 
before  you  leave  home.  For  fifty  cents  on  a  hun- 
dred dollars  your  bank  will  issue  these  checks  pay- 
able anywhere  in  the  world.  The  cashier  signs 
them  in  your  presence  and  you  sign  them  in  his. 
When  you  want  them  cashed  you  countersign  in  th« 
presence  of  the  one  who  gives  you  the  money.  If 
you  lose  these  checks  or  some  one  steals  them  they 
are  worthless  to  the  one  who  gets  them  and  thp 
bank  will  pay  you  the  money. 


188  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

If  you  have  $5.00  converted  into  small  change  in 
Turkey  or  Egypt  (the  moneys  of  these  countries  are 
similar  but  entirely  different)  you  better  take 
a  basket  or  a  satchel  to  get  your  change  or  see  to 
it  that  your  pockets  are  large  and  your  pants  but- 
tons well  sewed  on,  for  you  will  get  enough  change 
to  start  a  bank,  with  that  gold  piece.  I  changed  a 
four-dollar  French  gold-piece  into  Turkish  coin  in 
Constantinople,  bought  two  towels  and  three  cakes 
of  soap,  a  big  supply  of  post  cards  and  stamps  to 
mail  them,  an  assortment  of  fruit,  attended  a  con- 
cert and  had  my  pockets  full  of  money  when  I  got 
to  the  hotel.  I  gave  a  man  a  piaster  (five  cents) 
and  asked  him  to  give  me  small  change  for  it.  He 
gave  me  a  handful  of  change  containing  five  dis- 
tinct coins  of  different  denominations  and  kept  a 
commission  for  his  trouble.  The  more  we  traded 
the  more  money  we  had.  Some  of  these  coins  look 
like  tobacco  tags  and  are  worth  one-tenth  of  a  cent. 

In  Egypt,  Palestine,  Syria  and  Turkey  they  have 
their  own  money  but  English  and  French  coins  will 
pass.  A  trick  of  the  traders  is  to  learn  what  money 
you  have  and  then  quote  prices  in  a  money  they 
think  you  do  not  understand.  You  will  soon  learn 
never  to  give  a  man  any  money  and  expect  any 
change  back,  for  he  will  surely  lose  all  his  knowledge 
and  suddenly  become  so  thickheaded  he  cannot  un- 
derstand what  you  mean  and  he  will  move  on  for 
more  victims.  You  will  learn  to  have  in  your  hands 
the  coins  you  think  the  article  is  worth  and  offer  it 
to  him.  If  he  wants  more  he  will  say  so — if  you 
want  to  give  more  you  can  give  it.    He  will  surely 


TRAVELS   IN   THE  OLD   WORLD  189 

mount  his  prices  high — several  times  above  what  he 
thinks  you  will  give  and  what  he  knows  they  are 
worth,  and  expect  you  to  jew  him  down.  Herein 
lies  the  joy  of  traffic  in  the  East.  To  meet  a  strange 
man  with  a  strange  tongue,  sometimes  hardly  a  word 
which  you  can  understand,  and  bicker  with  him 
over  prices,  the  most  of  it  in  signs  and  exclama- 
tions, each  one  watching  that  he  be  not  cheated — 
this  is  a  pastime  more  exciting  than  golf. 

In  Cairo  en  route  to  our  hotel  one  day  a  Souda- 
nese bore  down  on  me.  He  was  black  as  the  coat 
of  the  Bishop  of  Canterbury.  He  hailed  from  the 
Soudan  and  he  looked  as  though  his  near  ancestors 
had  more  than  once  made  lunch  on  a  fat  English- 
man. Indeed  he  looked  as  though  he  might  enjoy 
for  dinner  some  fresh  tourist  who  did  not  chew  to- 
bacco and  was  roasted  to  his  taste.  His  face  was 
horny  and  from  his  eyes  the  dim  ages  gone,  seemed 
to  look  straight  down  on  me.  I  learned  his  busi- 
ness was  not  to  eat  me  but  to  sell  me  a  cane.  It 
was  indeed  a  beautiful  cane,  made  of  African  ebony 
highly  polished  and  skillfully  inlaid  with  one  hun- 
dred and,  thirty  pieces  of  ivory  from  the  tusk  of  an 
African  elephant.  Not  wanting  to  cheat  the  man 
I  got  the  eye  of  the  guide  and  asked  what  price  I 
ought  to  pay.  He  informed  me  two  shillings  (fifty 
cents)  would  buy  plenty  of  them.  Making  signs 
to  him  I  learned  he  wanted  twelve  shillings  (three 
dollors).  Besides  the  sentimental  value  as  a  sou- 
venir it  would  be  worth  much  more  than  that  here, 
but  if  two  shillings  was  a  fair  price  I  had  it  in  mind 
to  buy  it  for  that,  so  I  held  up  two  fingers.     He 


190  TRAVELS   IN    THE   OLD   WORLD 

made  signs  at  me  and  sputtered  as  though  some  of 
his  inside  draw  strings  had  broken  loose,  and  lift- 
ing his  head  in  disgust  went  down  the  street  leav- 
ng  me  to  wonder  just  what  the  "cuss"  words  were 
he  had  employed  against  me. 

Presently  he  came  back  and  overtook  me  as 
I  walked  on  pretending  not  to  notice  him.  He 
caught  me  by  the  arm  and  put  his  black  horny 
face  so  close  to  mine  I  thought  he  intended  to  bite 
a  piece  out  of  my  ear  to  see  what  kind  of  a  lunch  I 
would  make.  He  hissed  something  in  my  ear  that 
went  all  through  my  blood  like  a  hypodermic  in- 
jection of  undiluted  contemptuousness,  and  held  up 
ten  fingers.  I  don't  know  what  the  awful  thing  was 
that  he  squirted  into  my  ear,  but  by  the  ten  fingers  I 
knew  I  had  him  on  the  retreat  and  he  had  fallen  back 
two  shillings.  With  my  American  blood  for  venture 
rising,  I  turned  on  him,  hissed  at  him  like  a  goose 
and  again  held  up  two  fingers.  He  again  sputtered, 
gathered  up  his  wares  and  throwing  his  head  high  in 
the  air  hurried  off  as  though  in  pure  contempt  he 
would  go  to  the  Soudan  before  he  halted. 

For  a  moment  I  feared  my  cane  was  gone,  but  it 
was  for  only  a  moment.  After  suddenly  stopping  and 
gazing  at  the  ground  as  if  it  had  done  something 
awful  to  him  he  snapped  his  fingers  and  muttered 
savage  ejaculations.  He  quickly  turned  and  over- 
took me  as  I  walked  leisurely  along.  This  time  he 
hissed  louder  and  faster  and  held  my  arm  tighter. 
Whether  he  was  trying  to  intimidate  me  or  not  I  do 
not  know.  The  last  two  fingers  on  his  left  hand 
were  down.    I  had  brought  him  down  to  eight  shill- 


TRAVELS   IN   THE  OLD   WORLD  191 

ings.  My  courage  rose  and  in  the  excitement  of  the 
game  I  shook  my  head,  made  many  sounds  and  held 
high  two  fingers.  He  stamped  his  foot,  rumbled  deep 
down  in  his  internals  like  the  foreboding  of  a  vol- 
cano and  showing  his  utter  disgust  in  every  way  he 
could,  he  went  off  as  if  by  all  counts  I  would  see  him 
no  more  in  the  flesh.  My  friends  who  had  been 
looking  on  with  keen  interest  and  much  amusement 
said  he  was  certainly  gone  this  time.  Making  his 
gyrations  still  more  emphatic  he  soon  returned  with 
the  extreme  air  of  finality  which  seemed  to  say  that 
though  the  heavens  fell,  the  sea  dried  up,  and  Egypt 
again  be  visitd  by  all  of  Pharaoh's  plagues  he  would 
see  me  dead  and  eaten  by  the  Sultan's  dogs  before  he 
would  recede  another  inch,  and  seeing  the  hotel 
was  near  he  dropped  all  but  four  fingers.  I 
also  assumed  a  pose  of  finality,  shook  my  head  and 
began  to  beckon  to  other  traders.  He  suddenly 
changed.  The  clouds  left  his  face,  he  smiled  until 
his  teeth  shone,  handed  me  the  cane,  and  taking  his 
fifty  cents  went  his  way.  As  I  write  I  see  sitting 
in  the  corner  yonder  that  cane.  I  am  keeping  it  as 
a  memento  of  my  long-drawn-out  trade  with  the 
black  oriental,  neither  of  us  speaking  a  word  the 
other  could  understand.  > 

So  pleased  were  several  members  of  the  party 
with  my  cane  that  they  desired  one  like  it.  My  good 
Baptist  friend,  Dr.  W.  R.  Cullom  of  Wake  Forest 
College  greatly  desired  one,  but  being  unable  to 
suddenly  come  from  the  dignity  of  the  class  room 
to  such  feats  of  street  traffic,  he  offered  me  a  very 
large  commission  if  I  would  buy  him  one,  and  that 


192  TRAVELS   IN   THE  OLD  WORLD 

night  on  one  of  Cairo's  main  streets  I  went  the 
ground  all  over  with  another  vender  of  canes  and 
greatly  pleased  the  heart  of  my  good  brother,  so 
pleasant  and  brotherly  in  all  our  travels,  by  calling 
him  from  bed  to  deliver  to  him  the  trophy  of  that 
trade.  His  cane,  however,  cost  him  fifty-five  cents 
— and  in  that  extra  nickel  there  lies  another  tale. 
Not  that  I  was  guilty  of  charging  it  for  commis- 
sion. That  nickel  taught  me  one  of  the  most  inter- 
esting lessons  of  Eastern  trading.  As  I  was  going 
through  the  necessary  preliminaries  to  the  purchase 
of  Dr.  Cullom's  cane  a  tall,  sharp-eyed  Egyptian 
came  up  and  stepping  at  once  between  us  he  took 
the  cane  in  his  hand  and  asked  me  what  I  would 
give  for  it.  I  might  have  asked  him  what  he  meant 
by  such  rude  interruption,  but  I  did  not.  Rather, 
I  stood  there  to  learn  what  it  meant.  I  told  him  I 
would  pay  two  shillings  and  no  more.  I  did  not 
care  to  cheat  the  man  nor  persuade  him  to  sell  if 
he  did  not  care  to,  but  that  was  all  I  would  give. 
He  then  talked  to  the  man  in  his  own  tongue.  The 
man  protested  and  shook  his  head  vigorously.  I 
was  informed  he  wanted  more.  To  this  I  shook 
my  head  and  turned  to  go.  He  handed  me  the  cane 
and  taking  the  money  from  me  thrust  it  into  the 
man's  hand  and  pushing  him  said  "Yallah  impshi," 
which  was  interpreted  by  our  guide  to  mean  some- 
thing not  quite  as  elegant  as  "Get  on  out  of  the  way 
you  black  rascal." 

The  man  then  came  to  me  and  informed  me  what 
his  actions  meant.  He  was  what  we  would  call  a 
"go-between".    This  third  party  is  really  necessary 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD  WORLD  193 

to  make  any  trade  legally  binding.  When  there  is 
a  difference  of  agreement  between  traders  the  third 
party  who  is  self-appointed,  comes  in  to  consum- 
mate the  bargain.  Many  times  later  on  we  saw 
this  illustrated.  If  you  buy  something  and  it  does 
not  prove  equal  to  the  seller's  claim  you  have  no 
redress  unless  the  third  party  was  in  the  trade. 
Whatever  he  says  settles  it.  It  somewhat  compli- 
cates matters,  however,  when  you  learn  that  this 
"go-between"  dignitary  will  decide  with  the  party 
who  pays  him  the  biggest  tip.  Of  course  he  ex- 
pects a  fee  for  his  services — usually  from  both  the 
seller  and  the  buyer.  So  I  paid  my  man  five  cents. 
It  is  said  to  be  a  very  lucrative  business.  I  won- 
dered how  that  system  would  work  in  this  country. 
How  would  you  like  every  time  you  tried  to  make 
a  trade  to  have  some  man  "butt  in"  and  conclude 
it,  then  charge  you  a  fee  and  tell  you  to  "go  to 
Guinea"? 

We  bought  many  articles  of  native  products  for 
trifling  sums — beautiful  beads,  lace  fancy  work, 
mats,  rugs,  brass  and  other  things — for  almost 
nothing.  Beautiful  ostrich  plumes  in  Cairo,  sold 
for  about  one-tenth  their  value  here.  We  saw  many 
tourists,  however,  pay  many  times  that  because 
they  took  them  at  their  first  price.  A  lady  in  our 
party  paid  a  dollar  and  a  half  each  for  two  Turkey 
fezs  to  take  home  to  her  brothers,  while  a  number 
of  us  who  went  together  to  the  bazaars  got  ours  for 
a  quarter.  And  in  the  buying  of  those  little  red 
caps  lies  another  tale.  We  thought  a  fez  was  a  fez 
and  there  was  no  difference  in  them.     So  we  got 


194  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD  WORLD 

them  and  adorning  our  heads  like  some  pasha  we 
went  through  the  hotel  lobby  with  the  other  gentle- 
men on  our  way  to  supper.  We  didn't  think  any- 
thing was  the  matter  with  our  harness.  As  we 
gazed  in  the  mirror  we  thought  we  were  handsome 
and  we  were  wondering  why  those  red  caps  were 
not  introduced  in  our  country.  But  in  the  lobby 
we  met  murmurs  and  unkind  looks.  It  was  ex- 
plained when  we  learned  there  were  two  kinds  of 
f  ezs  and  while  they  were  very  much  alike  they  were 
very  much  unlike.  One  was  the  customary  head- 
gear of  the  people.  The  other  was  not  quite  so 
high,  darker  in  color  and  had  a  shorter  tassel.  It 
was  the  badge  of  the  insurrectionists  and  meant, 
"Down  with  the  Sultan."  Some  of  us  were  wear- 
ing it.  While  we  would  not  have  spent  much  time 
mourning  if  the  old  fellow  should  have  gone  down, 
we  had  not  come  for  the  purpose  of  putting  him 
down,  and  we  concluded  if  this  cap  branded  us  as 
his  enemy  the  other  might  class  us  as  his 
friends,  and  we  put  the  little  red  skull  caps  away  for 
young  Americans  who  would  not  be  bothered  over 
such  scruples  and  we  crowned  our  pates  with  Ameri- 
can toggery. 

Numbers  of  times  we  were  surrounded  and  our 
way  was  blocked  by  the  traders  and  beggars  who 
crowded  us.  Several  times  some  of  us  used  a  bor- 
rowed plan  that  helped  some.  As  they  crowded  us, 
chattering  away  in  words  (if  they  could  be  called 
words)  we  could  not  understand  and  gesticulating 
with  all  their  might,  we  looked  them  straight  in  the 
face,  gesturing  violently  and  speaking  loudly  and 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  195 

with  great  emphasis  recited  to  them  "Mary  had  a 
little  lamb,"  "The  boy  stood  on  a  burning  deck/' 
"Tom,  Tom,  the  piper's  son,"  and  such  other  pro- 
ductions from,  childhood  as  we  could  recall  and 
thought  they  would  appreciate.  It  was  always  suc- 
cessful. They  would  look  at  us  in  a  very  peculiar 
way  and  move  on.  Whether  they  thought  us  crazy 
or  whether  they  thought  the  proposition  we  sub- 
mitted to  them  outweighed  the  one  they  proposed 
to  us  I  was  never  able  to  learn.  At  other  times  we 
got  ahead  of  those  who  came  to  us  with  outstretched 
hands  begging  for  "backsheesh"  by  meeting  them 
with  open  hands,  crying  loudly,  "Backsheesh." 
Likewise  we  would  meet  traders  and  try  to  sell 
them  things  we  had.  These  tricks  usually  non- 
pulsed  them,  but  not  always. 

These  Eastern  traders  are  ahead  of  those  of  our 
own  land  in  zeal  and  scheme  and  plan.  They  don't 
wait  for  you  to  come  to  their  stores — they  bring 
their  stores  to  you.  To  the  boats,  hotels,  streets, 
public  places,  everywhere  they  come  with  their  goods. 
You  have  to  watch  them,  but  if  you  keep  your  eyes 
open  you  can  make  a  dollar  go  further  than  you  ever 
saw  it  go  before  and  bring  home  things  that  make  a 
lady  happy  for  many  moons  to  come. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

IN   SUNNY   ITALY. 

From  Egypt  we  turned  our  faces  across  the  seas 
to  Italy,  having  in  us  a  desire  to  walk  upon  its  sun- 
lit slopes  as  well  as  answer  to  the  call  that  arose 
within,  saying,  "I  must  see  Rome."  The  weather 
was  good  but  some  of  our  party  insisted  on  getting 
sick,  due  perhaps  to  their  surroundings  and  a  small 
boat  more  than  to  the  roughness  of  the  seas;  and 
then  there  was  a  little  too  much  mutton  grease  or 
more  properly  goat  grease  in  the  cooking  for  some 
of  our  people.  A  very  large  per  cent  of  the  meat 
of  these  countries  is  mutton.  It  seemed  to  me 
sometimes  about  ninety-nine  and  a  half  per  cent., 
and  nearly  all  the  mutton  is  goat.  Of  course,  in  a 
party  of  four  dozen  people  it  is  quite  natural  to  find 
a  few  unreasonable  and  fastidious  people  who  are 
hard  to  please  and  insist  on  having  some  kind  of 
meat  besides  mutton.  Brother  Williams,  my  fellow 
traveler  and  room  mate,  belonged  to  this  class.  He 
vigorously  objected  to  having  all  his  food  cooked  in 
goat  greese.  One  day  at  dinner,  as  we  took  our 
seats  at  the  table,  he  smiled  at  the  stack  of  dishes 
before  us.  It  looked  from  the  big  outfit  in  front 
of  each  one  that  we  might  expect  something  fine. 

"We'll  certainly  get  something  besides  mutton  in 
all  these  courses"  said  Brother  Williams.  The  first 
course  came.  It  was  mutton  and  potatoes.  The 
dishes  were  removed  and  the  second  course  came. 
It  was  mutton  and  peas.  The  dishes  were' cleared 
away  and  the  third  course  was  brought,  it  was  mut- 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  197 

ton  and  squashes.  The  dishes  were  again  removed 
and  the  fourth  course  came,  it  was  mutton  and  ma- 
caroni. The  next  course  was  fruit,  then  coffee  and 
cheese.  Brother  Williams  came  in  on  the  last.  A 
large  per  cent  of  the  milk  and  butter  in  these  coun- 
tries is  also  the  products  of  goats.  Some  of  our  ladies 
often  said  that  when  the  rest  of  the  fare  did  not  suit 
them  they  could  fall  back  on  the  milk  and  butter,  for 
everywhere  we  went  these  two  articles  were  good. 
This  is  true,  for  goat's  milk  and  butter  is  richer  and 
better  than  that  that  comes  from  cows,  if  you  will 
banish  your  prejudice.  Those  who  knew  did  not  tell 
the  ladies  the  kind  of  milk  and  butter  it  was  and 
they  came  back  from  their  trip  commending  these 
articles  of  diet. 

The  dairy  business  of  Italy  and  these  other  coun- 
tries is  interesting  and  odd  to  Americans.  In  the 
early  morning  hours  your  attention  is  attracted  by 
a  bell  ringing,  which  sounds  like  an  oldtime  bell 
on  a  home-coming  cow.  It  is  on  the  neck  of  the 
leader  of  a  fiock  of  milk  gQats.  They  are  driven 
to  the  front  door  or  shop  of  the  customer  who 
brings  out  a  pitcher,  and  the  dairyman  proceeds 
then  and  there  to  milk  as  much  as  is  needed  while 
the  goats  proceed  to  clean  up  the  yard  of  all  trash 
and  other  things  which  come  in  the  realm  of  a 
goat's  appetite.  When  a  customer  lives  upstairs, 
the  traveling  dairy  mounts  the  stairway  with  ease 
and  grace,  cleaning  up  rubbish  and  serving  milk  to 
all  who  call  for  it.  There  are  several  advantages 
in  this  method  of  dairying:  you  are  always  sure 
to  get  fresh  milk  and  the  milkman  has  no  chance 
to  add  water  to  it,  and  besides  this,  you  get  your 


198  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

garbage,  trash,  papers,  etc.,  consumed  free.  This 
business  so  impressed  me  that  when  the  war  started 
and  it  seemed  we  could  not  get  home  for  months  to 
come  I  made  a  proposition  to  Williams  to  put  the 
few  dollars  we  had  left  into  the  purchase  of  a  few 
goats.  I  thought  between  us  we  could  carry  on  a 
small  dairy  business  and  make  an  honest  living 
until  we  could  get  home.  It  must  be  very  profitable 
to  have  a  dairy  that  will  convert  all  the  trash  of  a 
town  into  milk  and  butter.  The  town  ought  to  pay 
for  the  cleaning  up  of  the  premises  and  the  feed  for 
the  milk  producers  would  cost  nothing. 

The  natural  charm  and  beauty  of  Naples  and  the 
surrounding  country  from  this  elevation  cannot  be 
described  by  tongue  or  pen.  Looking  down  upon  the 
city  that  clusters  about  the  mountain  like  a  neck- 
lace of  pearls  on  the  throat  of  a  queen,  with  the 
mellow  light  of  the  Italian  skies  shining  down  upon 
it  all,  makes  the  heart  throb  faster  but  thickens  the 
tongue  so  that  it  can  frame  no  words  and  stiffens 
the  fingers  so  they  can  write  no  lines  to  tell  what 
the  soul  is  seeing  and  feeling.  And  at  night  when 
the  sun  went  on  beyond  those  historic  hills  and  the 
moon  came  up  across  the  bay  to  let  down  upon  the 
waters  and  the  hills  her  silvery  mantle  of  liquid 
light,  and  the  stars  quiet  and  full  of  peace,  looked 
down  from  a  cloudless  sky  upon  the  teeming  life 
and  flickering  lights  of  the  city,  while  old  Vesuvius 
from  her  strange  infernal-like  funnel  sent  up  her 
flash  of  fire  against  the  sky  as  though  at  any  hour 
she  meant  to  cover  the  fairest  scene  of  earth  with 
burning  death,  I  put  up  my  pencil  and  note-book, 
unable  to  write,  and  looked  and  looked  and  looked  for 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  199 

"My  soul  today 
Was  far  away 
Sailing  the  blue  Vesuvian  Bay; 
With  watchful  eyes 
My  spirit  flies 
Under  the  walls  of  Paradise." 

Below  me  lay  a  great  city  full  of  misery,  shame 
and  poverty,  for  with  all  its  glory  nowhere  on  the 
earth  is  there  more  wretchedness  than  in  Naples, 
but  I  saw  none  of  these  things.  The  dirty  alleys, 
ragged  beggars,  half  starved  souls,  hovels  of  mis- 
ery and  dens  of  shame  came  not  to  my  view,  for 
a  glorious  light  seemed  to  transform  all  the  de- 
fects of  earth  and  humanity  into  a  picture  of  un- 
earthly beauty.  To  and  fro  went  boats  with  the 
commerce  of  the  world.  Near  by  arose  the  rocks 
of  Amalfi,  Sorenta  and  Capri,  and  the  Islands  of 
Ishia  besides  many  other  points  full  of  charm  to 
those  who  take  interest  in  the  history  of  their  fel- 
low men. 

Not  only  is  this  section  full  of  interest  because 
of  its  natural  beauty  but  hardly  a  spot  on  the  globe 
is  richer  in  the  history  it  has  written.  In  the  high- 
est days  of  Roman  grandeur  and  greatness,  this, 
next  to  Rome,  was  the  spot  they  loved  the  most, 
and  here  they  lavished  all  the  wealth  they  had,  to 
make,  with  nature's  help,  a  land  to  equal  heaven. 
Down  from  Rome  along  the  Apian  way  came  a 
mighty  thoroughfare,  one  of  those  well  built  Roman 
roads  whose  work  still  stands  enough  to  show  how 
great  it  was.  Along  this  highway  by  the  hills  of 
Campagnia  teemed  the  stream  of  Rome's  richest 
and  greatest  life,  coming  and  going  to  and  from 


200  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

the  Eternal  City  and  Naples,  the  City  of  the  Sea. 
Chariots  rich  and  gaudy,  drawn  by  the  finest  horses 
with  lace  and  gold,  bearing  Caesar's  retinue,  litters 
of  luxury  in  which  reclined  Rome's  fair  and  well 
perfumed  ladies  carried  by  their  slaves;  caravans 
on  missions  of  merchandise;  battalions  of  soldiers 
with  the  Imperial  uniform  and  the  Roman  eagle, 
went  in  ceaseless  stream  along  this  road.  It  must 
have  been  a  wonderful  sight  to  those  who  looked 
upon  it. 

In  and  about  Naples  many  mighty  Romans  of 
those  olden  days  when  Rome  ruled  the  world  came 
here  where  they  had  mansions  and  villas.  This  was 
the  home  of  Horace  and  Hadrian,  and  Cicero  and 
Virgil.  This  great  old  Latin  poet  loved  these  hills 
with  all  the  love  of  a  poet's  great  soul,  and  on  one 
of  these  hills  today  his  tomb  is  found  where,  in  com- 
pliance with  his  dying  wish,  his  body  was  brought 
to  rest  on  this  wave-washed  shore,  where  so  often 
the  old  poet  had  dreamed  the  dreams  he  wove  into 
his  poems.  On  his  tomb  is  this  verse,  written  by 
himself : 

"In  lovely  Mantua  was  my  child-hood's  home, 
'Till  my  ambition  lured  me  forth  to  Rome; 
Flocks,  fields  and  heroes  have  inspired  my  breast, 
And  now  on  Naple's  sunny  slopes  I  rest." 

Here  Brutus  stabbed  to  death  the  mighty  Caesar, 
lord  of  the  whole  worM.  Across  the  bay  yonder  at 
Capri-Tiberius,  Emperor  of  Rome,  came  when 
broken  with  age  and  disease,  brought  on  by  sin  and 
shame,  to  spend  his  closing  years  burying  his  soul 
still  deeper  in  debauchery  and  vileness  than  he  had 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD  WORLD  201 

done  in  his  youth.  Here  he  fortified  himself  against 
all  his  enemies,  human  and  superhuman,  believing 
he  was  powerful  enough  to  fight  them  all.  He  built 
twelve  villas  and  supplied  them  with  all  the  luxury 
wealth  could  lavish  and  a  sin-cursed  soul  could 
concieve.  He  spent  a  month  in  each  villa,  keeping 
his  sinful  soul  intoxicated  with  sin  and  shame  that 
he  might  feed  his  fiendish  desires  and  keep 
away  the  call  of  conscience  and  the  shadow  of 
eternity  that  was  fast  coming  across  his  bloody  path. 

On  the  high  hill  overlooking  the  rocks  and  the 
waters,  they  show  you  now  a  point  called  the 
"Leap  of  Tiberius."  After  putting  his  victims  and 
prisoners  and  all  whose  conduct  did  not  suit  him 
through  the  most  awful  tortures  his  soul  could 
conceive,  and  tiring  of  their  agony  and  groans  he 
had  his  soldiers  plunge  them  from  the  cliff  upon  the 
rocks  below,  where  more  soldiers  waited  to  continue 
their  tortures  if  they  were  not  dead  before  their 
mangled  bodies  went  to  the  fish.  Here,  this  sinful 
old  Roman  whose  life  for  cruelty  and  debauchery 
almost  equalled  that  of  Nero  was  living  his  closing 
years  when  the  Romans  and  Jews  in  Jerusalem 
crucified  Jesus.  When  the  news  came  to  him  from 
Rome  that  Jesus  had  suffered  at  their  hands,  doubt- 
less, he  gloried  at  the  picture  and  wished  he  had 
been  there  to  lend  a  helping  hand. 

The  shame  and  sin  of  Roman  life  is  unspeakable 
and  cannot  be  told.  Nowhere  save  in  Rome  was 
more  of  it  seen  than  along  the  shores  of  Naples. 
It  does  seem  strange  that  scenes  so  peaceful  look- 
ing now  and  so  richly  blest  with  nature's  hand 
should  be  so  cursed  with  the  sin  of  man!  Yet  it  is 


202  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

ever  so.  Where  is  the  sun-lit  slope,  breeze-swept 
hill,  or  wave-washed  shore  made  beautiful  by 
nature  that  has  not  been  stained  with  blood  and 
cursed  by  the  sin  of  man?  The  flowers  have  been 
stained,  the  streams  crimsoned,  the  quiet  night  made 
hideous  with  shrieks  and  curses;  and  the  balmy 
days  polluted  with  human  crimes,  and  it  is 
man  who  does  it.  His  sinful  feet  have  stopped  no- 
where. His  bloody  hands  have  passed  over  no  ob- 
ject. His  fiendish  appetite  has  preyed  on  everything. 
Rome,  Athens,  Jerusalem,  the  Temple,  the  Altar, 
Calvary,  every  thing  and  every  place  cries  out  to 
heaven  how  the  sin-cursed  soul  of  humanity's  vile 
vandals  have  carried  their  slimy  reeking  stream  of 
filthy  sin  over  every  thing  and  every  body. 

Not  only  has  the  sin  of  the  race  marred  the  fair 
picture  of  Sunny  Italy  but  it  seems  that  a  super- 
human power  has  conspired  to  punish  the  race  for 
so  sinning  on  its  fair  shores  by  constantly  tearing 
down  its  works  and  making  the  people  live  with 
the  constant  fear  that  at  some  sudden  moment, 
volcanoes,  earthquakes,  pestilence,  or  plague,  the 
lives  and  homes  of  the  people  may  be  ground  into 
the  dust.  Time  after  time  through  the  centuries, 
these  fair  hills  have  shaken  in  the  throes  of  mighty 
earthquakes  that  left  ruin  and  desolation  in  the 
wake  of  its  trembling  waves.  Many  times  cities 
and  country  districts  have  been  utterly  destroyed. 
A  few  days  after  our  departure,  these  hills  shook 
until  thousands  were  dead  and  still  more  were  left 
homeless. 

In  1883  a  mighty  earthquake  shook  the  beauti- 
ful  Island   of  Ischia,  out  in  the  Bay  of  Naples, 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  203 

as  the  people  listened  to  the  singing  of  the  sirens. 
They  were  on  the  flood-tide  of  their  social  life,  after 
supper,  when  without  warning  the  island  reeled 
like  it  had  grown  drunk  on  the  wine  they  were 
drinking  and  when  quiet  from  its  spree,  desolation 
and  ruin  came  upon  the  stage  instead  of  the  gay 
festivities  of  the  moment  before.  The  organist  was 
found  dead  at  the  instrument  and  the  dancers  in 
their  last  embrace  upon  the  ball-room  floor.  As 
strange  as  it  may  seem  the  music  they  were  mak- 
ing for  the  gay  to  dance  by  was  "The  Funeral 
March."  How  strange  is  the  irony  of  fate  that 
should  thus  turn  the  tables  on  those  who,  in  bur- 
lesque, were  dancing  to  "The  Funeral  March."! 
And  yet  fickle  and  sinful  man  has  ever  been  so.  He 
constantly  passes  from  the  stage  of  earth  into  the 
shodows  of  eternity,  dancing  to  "The  Funeral 
March." 

When  King  Humbert,  father  of  the  present  king 
of  Italy,  heard  of  the  great  disaster,  he  came  in  per- 
son to  the  scene  to  direct  the  work  of  relief  and 
rescue  as  was  his  custom  and  as  is  the  custom  of 
many  European  sovereigns  in  times  of  public  calam- 
ity. The  present  king  came  down  to  the  ruined 
cities  last  summer  to  help  the  people  with  his  deeds 
and  words.  When  the  old  king  reached  the  stricken 
island  and  looked  upon  the  scene  before  him  he 
cried,  "My  God,  I  never  dreamed  of  such  misery." 
The  horrors  of  a  buried  city  must  be  unspeakable. 

'The  people  live  in  constant  dread  of  a  return  of 
such  calamities  and  yet  they  rebuild  again  upon 
the  ruins  of  the  past  and  go  on  sinning  and  living 


204  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

as  the  victims  of  the  past  had  done.  It  was  believed 
by  the  ancients  that  these  hills  rested  upon  some 
huge  monster  who  grew  tired  of  the  burden  he 
carried  and  shaking  himself  to  be  rid  of  his  load, 
he  caused  the  destructive  earthquakes  to  come. 

The  Plague  also  has  often  preyed  with  mighty 
havoc  upon  Southern  Italy.  In  1884  death  and  de- 
struction followed  in  the  wake  of  this  dread  dis- 
ease and  thousands  were  dead.  King  Humbert  at 
once  made  ready  for  the  stricken  country  against 
the  wishes  of  his  friends  and  physician.  He  can- 
celled important  engagements  of  state  and  bade  his 
friends  good-bye,  as  it  was  not  at  all  improbable 
they  would  never  see  him  again.  He  worked  faith- 
fully until  the  plague  was  over.  The  ancient  poets 
had  a  saying,  "See  Naples  and  die."  They  perhaps 
meant  that  the  beauties  and  attraction  of  the  city 
were  so  great  that  you  need  not  hope  on  earth  to 
excell  them,  and  when  you  had  seen  it  you  had  no 
more  on  earth  to  see,  and  yet  there  is  irony  in  the 
saying.  When  you  think  of  the  way  Naples  has 
been  preyed  upon  by  earthquake,  cholera  and  vol- 
cano, you  can  but  feel  that  if  you  are  not  in  a  hurry 
about  seeing  it  you  may  die. 

It  is  a  strange  kind  of  human  nature  that  men 
will  build  their  homes  and  spend  their  lives  on  the 
very  edge  of  ruin.  The  green  slopes  of  Vesuvius 
were  covered  with  homes  and  vineyards  when  the 
first  upheaval  came  and  it  was  covered  again  as 
soon  as  the  wreck  could  be  cleared  away.  People 
live  and  walk  today  upon  its  edge,  climbing  over 
the  fields  of  lava  it  cast  up.  These  hills  that  have 
so  often  been  shaken  and  devastated  by  pestilence 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  205 

are  soon  refilled  with  folks,  and  yet  why  wonder 
at  the  folly  of  silly  men  in  so  doing?  Has  not  the 
race  always  been  so?  Do  we  not  do  the  same? 
There  is  a  feeling  of  security  in  the  peaceful  prom- 
ise of  Nature.  We  hide  from  a  storm  behind  a  hill, 
when  the  storm  can  tear  up  the  hill.  We  ride  out 
on  the  ocean  when  it  has  swallowed  its  thousands. 
We  trust  Nature  like  a  child  trusts  a  mother.  It 
is  hard  to  believe  the  scenes  we  love  can  treat  us 
ill.  And  if,  per  chance,  Mother  Nature  does  send 
danger  down  upon  her  child,  we  believe  it  will  not 
come  again,  surely  not  this  time  and  not  on  us.  So 
Italy's  children  build  again  tomorrow  on  hills  that 
shook  with  death  on  yesterday,  and  plant  their 
Vineyards  and  build  their  homes  upon  the  side  of 
Vesuvius,  that  mountain  of  murmuring  fire  with 
the  confidence  you  have  when  you  sleep  above  your 
furnace  that  warms  you  in  the  winter  time.  And 
then  to  be  familiar  with  a  thing  means  not  to  be 
afraid  of  it.  I  once  had  a  friend  who  was  so  scared 
of  a  coffin  that  it  gave  him  cold  chills  to  see  one; 
later  on  he  worked  in  a  coffin  factory,  handling 
them  all  day  long.  Soon  he  was  eating  on  them  at 
noon  and  taking  an  after  dinner  nap  upon  them 
every  day.  Italy  has  become  so  well  acquainted  with 
her  volcanic  hills  that  she  sees  no  danger  in  them. 
And  then,  in  the  enchanted  dream  that  leads  men 
on,  they  forget  the  rocks,  listening  to  the  song  of 
the  sirens  and  think  not  of  the  fate  that  awaits 
them  in  their  effort  to  grasp  the  fruit  before  them. 
So  men  camp  on  the  brink  of  ruin  and  gamble  even 
with  death,  and  pitch  their  tents  where  angels  dare 
not  tread,  in  their  efforts  to  taste  the  sweets  of  sin. 


206  TRAVELS  IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  ^      . 

As  Italians  sleep  above  the  roaring  of  Vesuvian 
flames,  heedless  of  danger,  our  sons  sleep  on  the 
flames  of  eternal  ruin,  thinking  not  of  judgment. 
As  long  as  men  fight,  cheat,  sin  and  trifle  away  their 
years  and  sleep  on  the  edge  of  eternity,  unprepared 
to  meet  their  God,  there  is  nothing  strange  in  Italy's 
children  planting  grapes  near  the  crest  of  burning 
Vesuvius. 

We  visited  all  the  points  of  interest  in  and  about 
Naples;  the  museum,  shops  and  public  buildings. 
Volumes  could  be  written  on  these  but  I  must  pass 
by  these,  stop  briefly  at  Pompeii  and  hurry  on  to 
Rome.  Pompeii  stands  out  alone  in  the  world  with 
a  history  all  its  own.  There  is  no  city  the  earth  has 
ever  built  with  a  story  at  all  like  it.  Seventy-nine 
years  after  Jesus  was  born  in  Bethlehem,  this  city 
of  thirty  thousand  souls,  in  the  midst  of  its  gay 
life,  was  buried  without  warning  under  a  mass  of 
ashes  and  red  hot  melted  rock,  hotter  than  any  fire 
of  earth  could  make  them.  This  destruction  came 
from  a  peaceful  old  mountain  near  by,  up  whose 
slopes  they  and  their  children  had  often  gone  to 
look  upon  the  hills  around,  and  far  away  stretches 
of  the  silvery  sea  beyond  the  Bay  of  Naples.  Upon 
the  mountain's  very  top,  they  had  often  walked  and 
rested,  seeing  no  sign  of  danger  because  then  the 
mountains  had  no  sign  of  internal  disturbance.  After 
the  complete  burial  of  the  city  with  many  thousands 
of  its  people,  who,  overtaken  with  the  flood  of  fire 
and  burning  lava,  and  lost  in  the  clouds  of  smoke 
and  darkness,  could  not  find  their  way  to  the  sea, 
they  remained  in  this  tomb  while  eighteen  hundred 


TRAVELS    IN   THE    OLD   WORLD  207 

years  rolled  over  them.  Then  science  reached  forth 
its  hand  and  opened  the  tomb  and  let  the  world 
look  upon,  not  a  buried  person  but  a  buried  city, 
dead  and  resurrected  not  to  a  better  life  but  to  a 
stately  death. 

Your  feelings  in  Pompeii  are  unlike  those  you 
have  anywhere  else  in  the  world's  works  or  its 
ruins.  In  the  tombs  of  Egypt  or  amid  the  dust  and 
white  stones  of  other  ancient  lands,  your  feeling  is 
like  that,  that  touches  the  wondrous  life  of  a  day 
long  gone  but  not  forgotten,  but  when  you  walk 
the  streets  of  Pompeii,  this  buried  and  destroyed 
city  recently  lifted  up  to  the  light  of  the  sun,  you 
have  a  feeling  of  sympathy  and  human  interest  as 
though  you  were  looking  upon  the  deeds  of  yester- 
day. Here  are  the  streets  with  grooves  where  the 
carriage  wheels  ran;  the  stepping-stones  from  one 
side-walk  to  another;  the  public  bakery  where 
half  done  bread  was  found;  further  on  is  the  mar- 
ket-place and  the  Forum  with  its  court  of  jus- 
tice; then  the  temples  to  the  Roman  gods,  nine  of 
them ;  then  two  theatres  with  seats  for  five  thousand 
each,  and  a  great  amphitheatre  with  seats  for 
twenty  thousand.  Posted  on  the  walls  are  signs 
advertising  big  features  at  the  theatre  and  the 
ampitheatre  for  the  night,  and  history  tells  us  the 
gay  people  were  there  at  their  games  when  the  cloud 
began  to  rain  its  fire.  One  of  these  games  scheduled 
was  a  "Roman  Hunt."  The  stage  was  changed  into 
a  forest  where  the  people  set  at  large  three  lions, 
one  elephant,  six  tigers,  a  crocodile  and  a  boa-con- 
strictor.    Gladiators  were  then  put  into  the  arena 


208  TRAVELS  IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

and  given  weapons  with  which  to  hunt  down  the 
furious  beasts  while  the  people  in  the  crowded  the- 
atre looked  on;  the  scene  was  doubtless  bloody 
enough  to  suit  their  depraved  tastes.  The  crushing 
of  bones,  tearing  of  flesh,  flowing  of  blood,  mingled 
with  the  groans  of  the  dying  men  and  furious 
screams  and  snarls  of  the  hungry  beasts  who  fought 
over  the  human  flesh  and  tore  it  to  pieces  like  dogs 
would  a  hare,  must  have  furnished  a  comedy  (?)  of 
entertainment  that  caused  the  Pompeian  ladies  and 
gentlemen  to  linger  over  the  tea  cups  of  the  morrow 
as  with  uplifted  jeweled  hands  and  smiling  faces 
they  talked  of  the  things  they  had  seen. 

On  this  fateful  night  there  was  something  in  the 
air  that  made  the  animals  strange  and  restless.  In- 
stead of  showing  their  teeth  and  leaping  on  the 
hunters,  they  ran  nervously  up  and  down  the  side 
of  the  cage,  lashing  their  flanks  with  their  tails  and 
sending  forth  anxious  growls  as  they  sought  an  exit 
that  they  might  flee  for  safety  to  the  hills,  for  in- 
stinct was  telling  them  of  a  coming  doom  the  stupid 
people  could  not  see.  To  them  the  world  was  the 
same  and  life  as  sweet  and  sinful  as  ever.  Pres- 
ently, a  distant  rumble  was  heard.  It  increased  with 
a  roar  of  thunder  that  shook  the  hills  and  made  the 
rocks  tremble.  The  theatre  shook,  the  walls  fell  and 
behind  them  the  old  mountain  was  burning.  High 
into  the  air  rolled  a  column  of  smoke  and  flame  and 
then  upon  the  world  around,  the  clouds  rained  fire. 
Several  feetof  burning  ashes  followed  by  rivers  of 
red  hot  melted  rock  ran  down  upon  the  city.  Many 
escaped  and  many  did  not.    The  city  was  buried  and 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  209 

preserved  like  we  can  fruit.  Eighteen  hundred  years 
it  was  air  tight.  When  excavations  were  under- 
taken many  objects  were  found  just  as  they  were 
buried,  others  that  had  disapeared,  leaving  a  perfect 
shape  where  the  now  hardened  lava  had  formed 
about  them  as  it  turned  them  into  dust,  were  saved 
by  the  excavators  by  opening  a  hole  and  pouring  in 
plaster.  When  it  was  hardened  it  produced  the  exact 
form.  The  lava  was  then  cleared  away  and  the 
object  saved. 

Many  wonderful  objects  are  seen  in  the  museum. 
They  speak  with  pathos  of  a  people  destroyed  in  sin- 
ful pleasure.    One  is  an  old  man  decrepit  and  bent. 
About  his  body  is  a  heavy  loaded  money-belt;  per- 
haps he  turned  back  to  save  his  treasure  and  lost 
his  life.     A  woman  likewise  was  found  trying  to 
carry  her  jewels  away  with  her.    A  dog  was  found 
in  the  street  twisted  in  contortion,  with  his  mouth 
open,  where  he  perished  by  his  master  rather  than 
leave  him  and  flee  for  safety.    A  dove  is  seen  upon 
her  nest  protecting  even  in  the  face  of  such  a  storm, 
the  life  beneath  her  breast.    Tables  set  with  food, 
families  in   the  home  circle,  babies  upon  their  moth- 
er's breasts  add  to  the  pathetic  scenes.     We  went 
into  the  prison  where  three  poor  victims  were  found 
chained  to  the  wall.    The  prison  key  was  found  near 
them  on  the  floor  where  the  keeper  in  his  flight  had 
left  it.     The  key  that  unlocked  the  door  that  led 
them  to  safety  was  not  quite  in  their  reach.    Tradi- 
tion has  it  that  these  men  were  condemned  to  the 
arena  later  in  the  evening  of  the  fatal  day.    Pompeii 
was  indeed  a  wicked  city  and  must  have  rivalled 


210  TRAVELS  IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

Sodom  for  unspeakable  evidence  of  its  debauched  life 
and  revolting  sin  is  seen  in  a  section  of  the  museum. 
You  are  almost  forced  to  believe  God  destroyed  this 
city  as  he  did  the  city  of  the  Plains  long  ago. 

Pompeii  must  have  been  one  of  the  most  beauti- 
ful cities  of  the  world,  for  it  has  much  evidence  of 
that  after  being  in  the  grave  eighteen  centuries.  In 
the  background  was  the  mountain  and  at  its  front 
door  the  wonderful  bay  with  its  shores  dotted  with 
so  many  points  of  interest.  The  city  was  on  an  ele- 
vation that  enabled  the  people  to  see  all  the  land 
around.  Many  of  the  homes  speak  of  luxury  and 
grace.  The  streets  are  beautiful,  the  buildings  great. 
As  it  stood  centuries  ago  adorned  with  all  the  glitter 
of  Roman  grandeur  it  must  have  been  indeed  a 
grand  city. 

One  of  the  greatest  novels  ever  written  is  "The 
Last  Days  of  Pompeii"  by  Bulwer  Lytton.  He  spent 
a  long  time  in  Pompeii  studying  the  history,  life  and 
setting  of  the  place  that  he  might  give  a  full  ac- 
count of  the  city  and  its  people  in  their  latter  days 
and  weave  through  it  all  his  charming  story.  How 
well  he  has  done  the  work  the  world  knows.  His 
descriptions  of  its  life  and  especially  the  awful  de- 
struction, is  the  best  to  be  found  anywhere,  and  is 
hardly  excelled  in  the  literature  of  the  world.  As 
we  walked  through  the  streets  of  the  city  and  were 
shown  the  house  of  Glaucus,  we  could  almost  see  the 
living  forms  of  Arbaces,  the  Egyptian ;  Glaucus,  the 
Greek,  lone  the  fair  Neapolitan  and  Nydia  the  blind 
girl  who  in  the  awful  hour  of  death  and  darkness, 
needing  no  light  to  guide  her  feet  over  the  streets 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  211 

she  had  learnd  so  well  in  her  dark  days,  found  her 
lover  and  guided  him  safely  to  the  sea. 

From  Naples  we  took  the  train  for  Rome,  one 
hundred  and  fifty  miles  back  further  in  the  hills. 
Every  foot  of  this  ride  was  over  historic  ground; 
the  hills  and  fields  seemed  rich  and  full  of  life  and 
everywhere,  Italy  seemed  to  be  putting  on  her  best 
clothes.  The  crops  seemed  to  be  good  and  the  fields 
were  dotted  with  white  cattle  with  long  horns,  and 
the  hills  were  covered  with  vineyards.  As  the  sun 
was  setting  we  came  in  sight  of  the  Eternal  City 
sitting  on  her  seven  hills,  where  for  so  long  she  ruled 
the  world.  The  first  view  we  had  of  Rome  was  of 
the  ruins  of  the  Claudian  Aqueduct  of  other  days. 
Then  there  burst  upon  us  the  vision  of  modern  Rome 
nestling  on  the  bank  of  the  Tiber  with  the  sinking 
sun  falling  in  blazing  splendor  upon  the  dome  of  St. 
Peters. 

In  the  short  space  before  me  it  will  be  impossible 
to  even  touch  upon  the  things  of  supreme  interest 
in  this  city  so  full  of  charm  for  the  human  race. 
Volumes  could  be  and  have  been  written  on  the  life 
and  history  of  this  old  city.  All  these  books  of  the 
masters  would  fill  a  library  and  they  have  not  told 
it  all.  It  seems  folly  for  me  who  am  no  master  to 
try.  I  shall  pass  by  history,  art,  and  Rome's  great 
relics  and  mention  only  a  few  points  of  interest  and 
the  things  of  peculiar  interest  to  me  . 

The  first  morning  after  our  arrival  in  Rome  we 
got  in  carriages  and  started  sight-seeing.  Our  course 
soon  brought  us  to  the  Tiber.  We  halted  beside  the 
yellow  slow-moving  stream  and  meditated.     Great 


212  TRAVELS  IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

old  river,  for  beyond  the  legend  days  of  Romulus 
and  Remus  when  there  was  no  Rome  you  were  going 
on  your  journey  as  you  are  to-day !  Of  all  the  rivers 
that  have  found  their  way  through  the  hills  to  the 
sea,  none  can  tell  the  tales  you  can!  What  secrets 
you  have  buried  in  your  bosom !  What  treasures  you 
could  bring  to  light  if  you  would!  your  banks  have 
lured  the  wooing  lover,  and  your  stream  has  run 
red  with  blood!  No  stream  has  ever  known  such 
horrors,  heard  such  bitter  cries  or  borne  away  so 
many  victims.  When  the  secrets  of  the  earth  must 
be  given  up  what  stories  you  will  tell! 

We  crossed  the  Bridge  of  San  Angelo  at  the  end  of 
which  stands  the  massive  circular  tombs  of  Emperor 
Hadrian,  one  thousand  feet  in  circumference.  We 
rode  over  the  seven  hills  of  the  city.  The  most  noted 
of  these  seven  hills  upon  which  Rome  stands  are  the 
Pincian,  Palatine  and  Capitoline.  The  Pincian  hill  is 
now  as  in  olden  times  the  haunt  of  high  society; 
it  is  a  beautiful  park,  restful  and  peaceful,  giving 
little  indication  of  the  bloody  horrors  that  it,  like 
the  other  hills  of  Rome  knew  in  the  olden  days.  It 
was  on  this  hill,  while  the  sister  of  Napoleon  rode 
in  her  chariot,  one  of  her  rejected  lovers  stabbed 
himself  so  near  her,  the  blood  spurted  on  her 
chariot.  Every  inch  of  land  here  has  known  dark 
crimes  and  vileness.  It  is  said  Nero's  ghost  wand- 
ers here  now  because  its  history  suits  so  well  his 
taste.  But  the  soul  of  that  vile  Roman  finds  no  such 
a  pleasant  place  to  travel. 

The  Palatine  Hill  was  the  part  of  the  city  where 
the  aristocrats  and  royal  families  lived.    From  the 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  213 

buried  ruins  here,  recent  excavations  have  brought 
great  wonders  to  light  and  more  are  yet  to  follow. 
The  Capitoline  Hill  was  the  portion  of  the  city  de- 
voted to  the  capital.  On  it  now  stands  the  great 
museum.  Among  the  great  wonders  of  this  build- 
ing the  thing  that  struck  me  most  was  a  selection 
of  marble  busts  made  from  life  of  the  Rulers  of 
Rome.  It  was  a  matter  of  much  interest  that  thir- 
ty-one of  these  rulers  were  horribly  murdered  and 
two  committed  suicide.  This  is  another  commen- 
tary on  the  vile  life  of  that  day.  One  of  the  most 
striking  faces  in  this  lot,  to  me,  was  that  of  old 
Nero  with  his  thick  bull-like  neck  and  face.  Truly 
licentious  and  devilish,  he  haunted  me  for  days.  Of 
all  the  men  who  have  made  history,  none  was  more 
depraved  than  he.  He  consireded  himself  divine 
when  he  was  devilish.  In  the  heighth  of  his  power 
he  used  to  drive  out  of  Rome  along  the  Apian  way 
with  one  thousand  wagons  carrying  his  baggage 
while  five  hundred  she  asses  followed,  to  supply 
milk  in  which  Mrs.  Nero  bathed  to  preserve  her 
youth  and  charm.  No  scene  of  blood  and  shame 
was  bad  enough  to  suit  this  old  monster.  In  hi3 
restlessness  for  excitement  he  conceived  the  idea 
in  his  depraved  and  drunken  brain  to  burn  Rome 
and  look  upon  the  drama  or  comedy  of  a  burning 
city.  History  tells  us  he  fiddled  and  sang  his  silly 
songs  as  he  watched  the  horrors  of  the  burning 
city.  He  then  blamed  the  Christians  for  the  fire  and 
started  the  bloodiest  persecutions  the  world  has  ever 
known.  But  his  day  came,  and  to  save  himself  from 
a  worse  fate  at  the  hands  of  his  enemies  he  fell  upon 


214  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

his  dagger.    His  soul  to-day  wanders  in  a  place  not 
so  fair  as  the  Pincian  Hill. 

Our  path  soon  led  us  to  the  Protestant  cemetery 
which  is  a  point  of  peculiar  interest  to  all  Protest- 
ants. As  its  name  would  indicate  it  is  the  resting 
place  of  many — some  of  them  heroic  souls — who 
found  their  sleep  by  facing  their  foes.  In  this 
beautiful  spot  upon  which  nature  has  turned  on  the 
light  if  peace  rests  the  dust  of  those  two  great 
poetic  souls  and  bosom  friends,  Keats  and  Shelley. 
In  other  years  their  souls  had  struck  mine  through 
the  songs  they  had  sung  and  I  lingered  by  these 
graves  with  reverent  heart  to  read  the  words  upon 
their  tombs.  I  copied  in  my  notebook  the  following 
from  the  head-stone  on  the  grave  of  Keats:  "This 
grave  contains  all  that  was  mortal  of  a  young  Eng- 
lish poet,  who,  on  his  death-bed,  in  the  bitterness 
of  his  heart  at  the  malicious  power  of  his  enemies, 
desired  these  words  to  be  engraven  on  his  tomb, 
'Here  lies  one  whose  name  was  writ  in  water.' " 

Below,  this  his  friend  Shelly  had  written  the  fol- 
lowing beautiful  tribute : 
"Keats  if  thy  cherished  name  be  writ  in  water, 

Each  drop  has  fallen  from  some  mourner's  cheek 

A  sacred  tribute  such  as  seek 
Tho  oft  in  vain  for  dazzling  deeds  do  slaughter; 

Sleep  on  not  honored  less  for  epitaph  so  meek." 

I  was  amazed  at  the  scale  upon  which  the  ancient 
Romans  built.  Their  works  of  art  it  seems  would 
take  all  the  genius  of  an  age  to  create  and  it  was 
said  of  the  Rome  of  old  that  there  were  as  many 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  215 

marble  statues,  in  the  city  as  there  were  inhabitants. 
These  are  masterpieces  and  their  greatness  and  pro- 
fusion is  so  far  beyond  me  I  shall  not  try  to  write 
of  them.  The  public  buildings,  streets  and  roads 
were  built  as  if  they  were  to  witness  the  end  of  the 
world.  With  all  the  faults  of  the  old  Romans  they 
did  not  do  things  in  a  half-way  slip-shod  manner. 
History  tells  us  of  one  architect  who,  so  poorly  built 
a  theatre  that  it  fell,  killing  several  thousand  peo- 
ple. All  the  future  history  of  the  builder  is  summed 
up  in  one  short  chapter,  "He  was  banished."  If  we 
had  such  a  custom,  doubtless,  we  would  build  upon 
a  more  lasting  foundation ! 

The  water  supply  of  Rome  is  wonderful.  The 
city  is  full  of  fountains,  public  and  private  baths. 
Its  great  water  system  is  supplied  by  streams 
brought  down  from  the  mountains.  In  ancient  days 
the  water  was  brought  through  massive  over  head 
aqueducts  which  ran  into  the  city  like  great  rail- 
way trunk  lines.  In  the  old  days  of  Rome  it  is  said 
the  water  system  was  greater  than  it  is  now.  The 
per  capita  supply  of  water  was  110  gallons,  the 
greatest  any  city  ever  had.  In  this  day  of  sani- 
tation and  cleanliness,  London  has  only  thirty  gal- 
lons per  person  and  Paris  seventy.  The  old  Ro- 
mans were  badly  stained  in  their  morals  but  they 
believed  in  keeping  their  bodies  clean. 

When  my  feet  stood  in  the  Forum  in  Rome  my 
feelings  were  such  that  they  could  not  be  recorded. 
In  all  the  earth  there  is  no  place  like  this.  It 
was  the  seat  of  Rome's  life  and  government.  Here 
they  made  history  while  you  wait.    Here  still  stands 


216  TRAVELS   IN    THE    OLD   WORLD 

the  "Golden  Mile  Post,"  marking  the  centre  of  the 
world.  From  the  farthest  confines  of  the  then 
known  world,  all  roads  ran  to  the  "Golden  Mile 
Post."  To  the  forum  and  from  it,  all  distances 
were  measured.  Here  the  world  was  ruled,  kings 
were  made  and  unmade,  kingdoms  set  up  and  put 
down.  Here  the  mighty  brains  of  the  Roman  Em- 
pire in  its  great  days,  wrought  their  deeds  and 
plans  into  a  mighty  structure,  whose  influence  will 
never  leave  the  earth.  Here  the  flaming  tongues 
of  Rome's  orators  swayed  the  people.  Here  Cicero 
made  the  speech  that  cost  him  his  life,  his  enemies 
cutting  off  his  head  and  carrying  it  to  the  Rostrum 
where  so  often  he  had  sent  forth  his  mighty  and 
lasting  orations,  which  for  ages  to  come  were  to  be 
the  models  of  eloquence  and  rhetoric  for  armies  of 
students  to  study  in  their  schools.  Holding  up  the 
bloody  head  they  spat  in  his  face  and  pulling  out 
his  tongue,  its  eloquence  now  hushed  forever,  they 
cut  it  to  pieces  as  though  it  had  been  leather. 

Here  they  murdered  Julius  Caesar  "The  noblest 
Roman  of  them  all,"  and  brought  his  mangled, 
bleeding  body  to  gloat  over.  I  could  almost  see  the 
blood  stains  still  upon  the  Rostrum.  Caesar  didn't 
have  our  religion  and  civilization.  He  was  harsh 
and  bloody  and  yet  he  stands  out  as  one  of  the 
greatest  men  of  the  world.  He  certainly  had  some 
great  and  noble  traits.  He  was  not  a  renegade  like 
Tiberius,  nor  a  sneaking  traitor  like  Brutus.  He 
was  a  world-builder  and  a  world-ruler  to  the  man- 
ner born.  When  the  dire  plot  was  mature  to  take 
his  life,  and  in  the  Forum  they  bore  down  upon  him 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  217 

like  wolves  in  the  night  upon  a  helpless  traveler, 
he  fought  them  single  handed  with  a  greatness  and 
a  heroism  true  to  him.  Men  who  owed  their  lives 
and  fortunes  to  him  were  slashing  at  his  heart  with 
their  knives.  The  hand  of  Brutus  who  owed  so 
much  to  Caesar  reached  forth  to  take  his  blood, 
and  as  it  pierced  his  flesh  the  mighty  Roman 
turned  his  eyes  full  on  him  and  said  "You  too  Bru- 
tus"? Whatever  faults  Caesar  had,  he  would  not 
have  done  to  them  what  they  did  to  him.  It  made 
the  heart  feel  strange  to  stand  where  all  these  things 
were  done. 

Just  below  the  Forum  the  street  runs  into  a  large 
circular  building  which  would  set  your  mind  to 
wondering  if  you  did  not  recognize  it  from  the  many 
pictures  you  have  seen.  It  is  the  great  Coliseum, 
where  the  streams  of  Roman  life  used  to  come  to 
see  the  games. 

The  building  is  on  such  a  tremendous  scale  it  over- 
whelms you  to  look  upon  it.  It  is  built  of  stone, 
several  stories  high  with  many  entrances.  A  large 
part  of  it  is  in  ruins  because  many  people  of  modern 
times  got  the  material  from  it  to  build  their  homes 
in  Rome,  but  not  until  they  had  used  powder  to 
loosen  them,  for  the  old  Romans  built  it  as  they  did 
their  other  works.  That  portion  of  the  building 
not  preyed  upon  by  the  vandalism  of  man  is  stand- 
ing in  fine  state  of  preservation.  Passing  in  one 
of  the  entrances  we  looked  upon  what  might  truly 
be  called  one  of  the  wonders  of  the  world.  Tier  on 
tier  rose  seats  where  the  life  of  Rome  used  to  sit 
until  there  was  room  for  nearly  ninety  thousand 


218  TRAVELS  IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

people  seated  in  the  great  theatre,  all  facing  the 
great  arena  in  front,  which  was  in  plain  view 
to  all.  Often,  this  place  was  full,  and  it  must  have 
been  a  sight  beyond  power  to  imagine,  to  see  the 
tremendous  crowds  of  Rome's  gay  life  pouring  from 
the  seven  hills  of  the  Eternal  City  into  the  entrances 
of  this  great  building  which  stands  where  several 
streets  meet.  The  vision  that  meets  the  eye  as  you 
gaze  upon  that  brilliant  throng  in  its  gayety  and 
gorgeousness,  and  the  great  building  finished  with 
the  art  and  wealth  of  Rome's  fine  hand,  produced  a 
scene  that  has  never  been  equalled  in  the  history  of 
the  human  race. 

Passing  into  the  center  we  stood  upon  the  arena, 
where  the  eyes  of  Rome  used  to  look  down  on  blood 
as  it  flowed  in  rivers,  and  in  the  calm  gathering  of 
twilight  we  prayed.  What  a  difference  in  this  place 
then  and  now?  Now  it  is  a  place  of  desolation  and 
stillness  while  peace  casts  her  mantle  down.  But 
then  what  was  it  that  met  the  gaze  of  heaven  ?  Yon- 
der is  the  place  where  Nero  and  his  Royalty  and 
Nobility  sat  along  with  the  vestal  virgins,  who  di- 
rected the  games  according  to  their  fiendish  whims. 
When  a  foe  was  cast  to  the  ground,  if  they  raised 
their  thumbs  he  was  spared,  if  they  held  them  down 
he  was  thrust  through  with  a  sword.  Here  are  the 
trap  doors  leading  to  the  dens.  These  dens  were  kept 
filled  with  the  fiercest  wild  beasts.  Large  numbers  of 
men  at  great  expense  were  kept  busy  hunting  down 
these  beasts  in  sufficient  quanity  to  entertain  the 
Emperor  and  his  people.  What  a  task  it  was  to 
gather  up  these  ferocious  beasts  and  get  them  alive 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  219 

to  their  dens  below  the  arena?  Many  gladiators 
fought  to  the  death  on  this  arena  to  entertain  gay- 
Rome. 

Several  thousand  were  kept  in  training  all  the  time. 
They  were  glad  to  run  the  fearful  risk  of  the  awful 
fate  that  sooner  or  later  was  sure  to  be  theirs  in 
the  hope  of  receiving  from  those  galleries  the  ap- 
plause of  Rome.    What  will  men  not  do  for  a  little 
applause?    Many  criminals  were  condemned  to  the 
arena  where  they  fought  with  the  beasts  as  Rome 
looked  on.     But  the  reason  this  place  is  dear  to 
every  Christian  heart  and  brings  to  you  the  feel- 
ing you  have  at  Calvary,  is  not  because  deluded 
fools  met  to  shed  one  another's  blood  in  quest  of 
the  approving  smile  of  Rome's  fair  ladies,  or  be- 
cause criminals  were  limbed  by  lions,   while  the 
crowd  cheered.    The  reason  is  that  this  is  the  place 
where  more  Christians  met  their  death  to  vindicate 
their  faith  than  any  where  else  in  the  world.     It 
seemed  to  me  as  I  stood  there  after  eighteen  centu- 
ries the  earth  was  so  black  and  soaked  in  blood  that 
you  could  almost  take  a  handful  of  dirt  and  squeeze 
it  out.     The  fights  of  gladiators  and  criminals  be- 
came too  tame  for  Rome's  fair  ladies  and  gallant 
gentlemen.    Old  Nero,  having  burnt  a  section  of  the 
city,  felt  an  aroused  public  would  hound  him  down 
on  account  of  this  and  other  deeds  too  vile  to  men- 
tion.    He    had    poisoned    his    own    mother    and 
kicked    his    wife    Poppea    to    death    for    another 
young  face,  upon  which  his  crime-soaked  soul  had 
looked,    and,    desiring   some   new   excitement    and 
entertainment  he  had  the   Christians   accused   of 


220  TRAVELS  IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

the  base  deeds  he  himself  had  done.  They  were 
arrested  by  wholesale,  cast  into  dungeons,  where  in 
starvation,  filth  and  disease  they  awaited  their  turn 
at  the  arena.  Day  after  day  large  numbers  of  them, 
men  women  and  little  children  were  cast  in  the 
arena  for  Rome's  entertainment  and  subjected  to 
shameful  treatment  too  awful  and  revolting  to  tell. 
Disrobed,  they  were  tied  to  the  horns  of  wild  bulls 
and  the  heels  of  horses,  or  soaked  in  oils  and  tied 
to  stakes  about  the  arena  and  set  on  fire,  that  their 
burning  bodies  might  give  light  for  the  games. 
They  were  put  in  the  arena  and  those  awful  trap 
doors  raised  so  the  half-starved  lions,  leopards  and 
tigers  could  come  out  to  feed  upon  them.  Rome 
laughed  and  cheered  at  their  dying  groans  and 
prayers,  mingled  with  the  snarls  and  roars  of  the 
devouring  beasts  and  gazed  enraptured  as  the 
beasts  tore  their  flesh,  crushed  their  bones,  drank 
blood  and  satisfied,  slept  upon  the  sands.  It  is 
said  it  took  a  small  army  of  men  the  rest  of  the 
time  till  the  next  entertainment  to  clear  the  arena 
of  loads  and  loads  of  mangled  forms  and  blood  and 
put  it  in  shape  with  clean  sand  and  perfumery  and 
incense,  for  sometimes  the  odors  were  almost  too 
much  for  the  depravity  of  Rome. 

It  seemed  to  me  in  the  gathering  night  as  we 
stood  there,  I  could  almost  see  a  ladder  let  down 
from  heaven  to  that  blood-stained  arena,  while  down 
it  came  an  army  of  angels  with  Christ  Himself  the 
Leader.  When  the  Master's  holy  feet,  still  showing 
the  place  where  the  nails  were  driven,  rested  on  the 
ground,  He  raised  his  hand  pierced  and  bleeding 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD  WORLD  221 

still.  From  the  bloody  dirt  below,  I  saw  an  army 
of  souls  rise  up  in  garments  white  and  glisten- 
ing. Their  faces  were  filled  with  heavenly  light 
and  their  foreheads  crowned  with  beautiful 
crowns  of  everlasting  life.  They  met  their  Savior 
singing  "Hallalujah,  hallelujah,  redeemed  by  the 
blood  of  the  Lamb."  An  angel  took  each  one  by 
the  hand  and  Jesus  leading  the  way,  they  started 
up  the  golden  ladder,  while  from  the  top  of  the 
ladder  of  gold  came  a  volumn  of  song  that  shook 
the  stones  of  Rome,  and  the  song  they  were  sing- 
ing was, 

"Up  to  the  bountiful  giver  of  life 
God's  children  are  gathering  Home." 

And  then  I  saw  another  vision:  old  Nero  was 
making  his  last  retreat,  followed  by  those  enraged 
souls  who  sought  his  blood.  His  throne  was  lost; 
his  power  gone.  No  one  in  all  the  world  loved  him, 
but  all  the  men  hated  him.  No  heart  had  a  tender 
feeling  of  respect  for  him  but  all  loathed  him.  He 
was  followed  by  his  enemies  and  by  red-eyed  devils 
hot  upon  his  trail  to  close  out  the  mortage  they  held 
on  his  sin-soaked  soul.  The  bloody  ghosts  of  all 
his  crimes  that  night  bore  down  upon  him  in 
an  army  he  could  not  drive  back,  while  they  reached 
out  their  bony  hands  clutching  at  his  throat.  And 
conscience,  that  great  white  spirit  that  cannot  be 
driven  off  forever  but  after  all  crime  and  sin  known 
to  man  has  thrust  him  away,  will  come  back  to 
press  with  a  hand  of  iron  his  eternal  claims  upon 
the  soul,  was  there,  white  but  strong.    This  daunt- 


222  TRAVELS  IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

less  spirit  gripped  the  soul  of  the  doomed  victim 
until  his  breath  was  almost  gone.  In  the  darkness 
that  gathered  about  him  he  drove  his  dagger  into 
his  bloated,  polluted  carcass  once  decked  in  royal 
robes.  With  an  eternal  darkness  falling  on  his  eyes 
and  a  multitude  crowding  down  to  grind  his  filthy 
flesh  under  their  heels  in  the  dust,  a  legion  of  devils 
gripped  his  soul  and  bore  it  beyond  the  confines  of 
hope  into  outer  darkness,  shouting  in  triumph  over 
the  trophy  that  they  bore. 

It  has  been  wondered  how  the  human  race  can 
become  so  repraved.  Without  the  saving  and  re- 
straining power  of  the  Gospel  of  Christ,  with  all 
the  culture  and  greatness  the  world  can  give,  it  is 
a  downward  course  and  humanity  has  fallen  to  the 
bottom  and  it  will  do  so  again  without  this  saving 
power. 

On  the  other  side  of  the  Forum  is  a  dungeon. 
We  climbed  down  these  narrow  steps  into  the  stifling 
air  of  this  underground  cell,  whose  only  means  of 
light  was  a  little  overhead  window  through  which 
a  feeble  little  stream  of  light  made  its  way.  This 
was  where  the  Apostle  Paul  spent  his  last  days  in 
Rome.  Here  by  this  feeble  light,  chained  to  a  sol- 
dier, his  limbs  shackled  until  they  were  chafed  and 
raw,  he  wrote  some  of  that  wonderful  portion  of 
the  Bible  that  has  so  richly  blest  the  world.  Here, 
it  is  supposed  he  wrote  portions  of  Galatians,  Ephe- 
sians,  Phillipians,  Colossians  and  the  Epistles  to 
Timothy.  Here,  he  spent  his  last  days  isolated 
from  friends  and  loved  ones.  After  a  life  of  wan- 
dering and  hardship  he  was  closing  out  his  days, 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD  WORLD  223 

deprived  of  the  communion  and  sympathy  of  his 
brethren.  His  only  attendant  was  the  Roman  guard. 
He  knew  full  well  what  his  end  would  be.  Perhaps 
his  reason  in  appealing  to  Caesar  was  to  claim  his 
right  as  a  Roman  citizen  and  get  the  privilege  of 
preaching  the  gospel  in  Rome.  After  preaching 
with  the  power  of  the  Spirit  to  the  Eternal  City  he 
waited  in  his  imprisonment  for  his  earthly  end. 
The  last  word  he  wrote  was  to  his  son  in  grace, 
Timothy,  and  through  him  to  the  Church  for  all 
time.  He  is  speaking  his  last  word;  his  nerve  is 
steady;  his  heart  is  strong;  his  head  is  clear.  Cast- 
ing a  backward  glance  along  the  road  he  had  al- 
ready come,  he  writes,  "I  have  fought  a  good  fight" ; 
(you  can  almost  hear  the  clank  of  the  chains  as  he 
drags  them  along  in  writing).  Of  course  he  had 
fought  a  good  fight;  few  men  under  such  tremen- 
dous odds  had  fought  as  hard  or  a  better  fight.  "I 
have  finished  my  course."  Glorious  thing  to  say.  He 
had  run  his  race  and  finished  the  work  he  had  to  do. 
"I  have  kept  the  faith";  how  well  he  had  kept  it! 
All  the  power  of  earth  and  hell  had  never  been  able 
to  make  him  lose  faith.  Blessed  is  he  who  can 
say  these  three  things  as  he  looks  back.  Then 
quietly  he  looks  at  the  present.  The  axe  is  in  the 
hand  of  the  executioner  and  will  soon  add  his  blood 
to  the  stream  that  flows  in  Rome :  "I  am  now  ready 
to  be  offered  up."  To  all  the  sacrifices  the  earth 
had  known,  including  Calvary,  he  was  ready,  g^ad 
to  offer  his  own  life.  "The  time  of  my  departure 
is  at  hand."  The  wonderful  vision  of  this  man  had 
swept  beyond  the  realm  of  death ;  to  him  there  was 


224  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

no  such  thing  as  dying;  he  was  just  waiting,  tired 
and  worn  upon  the  shore,  for  the  ship  to  come  to 
take  him  to  the  blessed  home  that  awaited  him  be- 
yond the  storms  and  troubles  of  earth.  "My  depar- 
ture," what  a  wonderful  conception  of  death !  Then 
sweeping  the  clear  and  cloudless  sky  of  the  vast 
future,  he  added:  "Henceforth  there  is  laid  up  for 
me  a  crown  of  righteousness,  which  the  Lord,  the 
Righteous  Judge  shall  give  me  at  that  day."  Of 
course  there  was.  No  man  who  had  the  past  and 
present  experience  that  was  his  would  fail  to  get 
the  future  reward.  "And  not  to  me  only  but  to  all 
them  also  that  love  His  appearing."  Wonderful  as- 
surance. Greater  than  all  the  greatness  of  Rome, 
the  Eternal  City,  is  the  promise  God  gives  His  chil- 
dren in  the  Heavenly  City. 

I  did  not  write  the  Pope  I  was  coming  to  Rome, 
for  I  did  not  want  him  to  go  to  any  extra  trouble 
for  me.  In  fact  I  hardly  expected  I  would  go  to  see 
him  for  I  did  not  take  any  low-neck  clothes  or  pon- 
tifical pantaloons,  and  felt  I  did  not  have  sufficient 
duds  and  dusters  to  be  nosing  in  such  quarters. 

I  ventured  to  visit  the  king  of  Italy  in  his  gorgeous 
palace,  and  drop  in  to  look  at  the  dazzling  house  of 
the  Kaiser  and  even  peep  through  the  premises  of 
the  Sultan  of  Turkey,  with  such  clothes  as  I  wore, 
but  then  the  pope  of  Rome  is  different!  He  puts 
himself  up  above  all  kings  of  the  earth  and  sits 
down  on  the  throne  of  God  to  be  ruler  of  heaven 
and  earth,  Besides  my  clothes,  I  didn't  have  cre- 
dentials. It  is  true  I  had  a  passport  as  an  American 
citizen,  signed  by  William  J.  Bryan  and  other  cer- 


u 

O 

-a 
u 

p 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  225 

tificates  to  tell  from  whence  I  came  and  who  I  was, 
but  what  are  such  poor  papers  in  the  presence  of 
the  pope  of  Rome?  I  knew  no  priest  or  cardinal 
to  sign  my  pass  to  St.  Peter's  throne,  and  while 
there  was  a  strong  blue  stream  of  good  old  Irish 
blood  coursing  through  the  crimson  tide  of  my  life, 
it  was  that  tide  you  do  sometimes  find  in  the  Emer- 
ald Isle  that  bears  on  its  flood  no  cargo  of  love  or 
homage  to  him  who  sits  on  Peter's  (?)  throne  and 
holds  the  keys  in  his  hands.  In  case  I  should  see 
him,  I  had  the  rheumatism  of  Protestant  indepen- 
dence in  my  joints  and  could  not  bow  to  him,  and  I 
had  a  fever  blister  on  my  lips  and  could  not  kiss  his 
toe,  no  matter  how  clean  it  was.  Thus  handicapped 
by  circumstances  and  heredity,  I  did  not  write  him 
I  was  coming,  but  thought  if  I  did  go  to  see  him, 
I  would  take  him  by  surprise.  However,  one  of  the 
most  unexpected  and  highly  enjoyed  pleasures  of 
my  visit  to  Rome  was  seeing  the  pope.  It  did  turn 
out  to  be  a  pleasure  and  this  is  how  it  came  about 
and  why  it  was  a  pleasure. 

One  Sunday  afternoon,  the  great  Italian  Mureski 
was  to  sing  at  St.  Peter's.  During  the  week  we  had 
heard  him  sing  in  St.  John's  and  so  thrilled  were 
we  that  we  desired  to  hear  him  again.  His  voice 
is  one  of  the  most  wonderful  of  the  world's  singers. 
It  sounds  like  a  big  choir  of  female  voices  com- 
pletely filling  the  building.  When  told  he  was  to 
sing  in  St.  Peter's  on  Sunday  afternoon,  we  finished 
our  dinner  and  Williams,  Gibson  and  myself  made 
our  way  toward  St  Peter's.  Enormous  crowds  of 
people,  on  cars,  carriages  and  afoot  were  moving 


226  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

that  way,  among  them  a  large  number  of  priests, 
more  than  I  had  ever  before  seen  in  my  life.  We 
thought  they  were  going  to  the  service  in  St.  Peter's 
but  when  we  saw  the  crowd  going  into  the  right 
wing  of  the  Vatican  instead  of  the  Cathedral,  we 
enquired  the  meaning  of  it  and  were  told  in  Italian 
that  the  people  were  going  to  see  the  pope. 

For  a  while  we  thought  it  was  one  of  the  fakes 
they  serve  you  so  often  in  these  countries  and  we 
paid  little  attention  to  it  until  we  were  assured  by 
several,  who  seemed  to  know,  that  it  was  true  and 
the  pope  was  giving  a  public  audience  in  the  court 
of  the  Vatican.  We  were  still  in  doubt  and  felt  that 
if  he  was  to  be  seen,  we  must  be  counted  out  as  we 
had  no  ticket  and  had  no  pull  to  get  one,  but  with 
that  curiosity  that  makes  one  follow  a  crowd  we 
fell  in,  determined  to  go  until  we  were  halted.  This 
was  not  long,  for  we  ran  into  two  Swiss  guards, 
dressed  up  like  dancing  monkeys  with  drawn 
swords.  They  demanded  us,  in  Italian,  to  halt.  At 
least,  that  is  what  I  suppose  they  said  though  they 
may  have  told  us  they  were  glad  to  see  us.  Any- 
how, we  halted.  We  finally  understood  we  could  not 
be  admitted  unless  we  had  tickets,  and  not  being 
able  to  get  any  intelligent  information  as  to  how 
and  where  the  tickets  were  to  be  secured,  we  turned 
back  toward  St.  Peter's. 

Presently  we  met  a  stout  Italian,  who,  in  a  whis- 
per, asked  us  if  we  wanted  to  see  the  pope.  We  said 
we  were  trying  to  see  all  the  ruins  of  Europe  and 
would  like  to  count  him  in  if  we  could,  but  could  not 
see  him  because  we  had  no  ticket,  and  didn't  know 


TRAVELS    IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  227 

whose  coat  to  pull  to  get  one.  The  rascal  then  in- 
formed us  he  had  some  tickets,  and  while  it  was 
against  the  law  to  do  it  he  would  sell  us  some  for 
two  lires,  40  cents  each.  This  made  us  indignant 
and  we  turned  away  in  disgust.  But  on  second 
thought  we  decided  it  would  be  worth  while  for  us 
as  free-born  American  citizens  to  pay  the  forty  cents 
and  see  one  of  the  greatest  shows  of  the  earth — a 
deluded  multitude  bowing  down  to  their  man-god. 
And  looking  back  upon  it  now,  I  consider  it  one  of 
the  best  investments  I  ever  made.  We  paid  the  fel- 
low and  took  the  ticket  which  I  have  saved  as  a 
souvenir,  for  I  somehow  got  by  the  guards  without 
giving  up  my  ticket.    Here  is  the  ticket : 

No.  4355.  Gratis. 

Anticamera  Pontifica 
Permesso  per  assistere  all  'Udienza  di  Sue  Santita 
nel  gromo  di  Domenicia  2  Agosto  alle  on  17,30 
5%  P.  M.  Dal  Vatican  31  Luglio  1914  L'engress 
e  dal  por —  Vittorio  Ameded  Rannuzzee  De  Beanche 
tone  di  Brongo.  Arcevescove  tit  de  Tiro. 

Maestro  De  Camera  De  Sua  Santita. 

Notice  it  is  gratis.  Of  course  Rome  could  not 
afford  to  advertise  such  a  show  of  the  pope  and 
charge  for  seeing  him  perform.  So  to  save  their 
faces  they  pretend  it  is  a  free  religious  service  in 
which  the  pope  partakes,  and  that  it  is  against  the 
law  to  sell  tickets,  and  that  the  blame  for  the 
selling  is  on  those  who  secure  them  illegally  and 
sell  them  themselves.  But  how  do  the  men  who  get 
them,  get  them  in  such  large  quantities? 


228  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

My  number  was  4355,  which  means  I  was  the 
four  thousand,  three  hundred  and  fifty-fifth,  and 
there  were  twice  that  many  more  almost  that  fol- 
lowed. And  yet  the  pope  is  welcome  to  my  forty 
cents  and  I  will  not  even  ask  him  how  he  spent  it.  I 
got  the  worth  of  my  money,  and  learned  more  les- 
sons for  forty  cents  than  I've  learned  in  some  schools. 
But,  Rome,  don't  come  to  me  advertising  your  mon- 
key show  as  a  gratis  religious  service,  and  then 
have  the  town  full  of  ticket  agents  selling  to  every- 
body. 

After  we  bought  our  tickets  we  fell  in  line  with 
the  crowd  that  grew  larger  every  second  and  were 
borne  on  the  tide  through  the  door  of  the  Vatican, 
out  into  the  large  and  beautiful  court.  Everything 
was  grand  and  imposing.  Such  an  array  of  cardi- 
nals, priests,  seers  and  bead  counters  could  not  be 
found  anywhere  else  in  the  world.  All  about  us 
Catholics  were  counting  beads  and  clasping  costly 
crucifixes  in  their  hands.  On  one  side  of  us  was  the 
company  of  Swiss  guards  with  uniforms  of  gold 
and  glory  it  would  be  hard  to  surpass,  and  heavily 
armed.  On  the  other  side  was  the  Royal  Italian 
guards  with  costumes  and  swords  in  keeping  with 
the  occasion.  Officers  and  guards  were  lined  up 
all  about  the  enclosure.  The  crowd  from  behind 
pressed  us  until  we  were  near  the  center  of  the 
great  enclosure.  Above  us  on  the  first  balcony  stood 
the  red-hatted  cardinals,  prominent  among  them, 
Merrv  Del  Val,  who,  on  one  occasion  locked  horns 
with  Roosevelt  and  Fairbanks.  And  whatever  faults 
you  find  with  Mr.  Roosevelt, — let  us  remember  in 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  229 

passing,  he  gave  the  pope  and  cardinal  a  good  stiff 
black  eye  when  they  served  notice  on  him  that  he 
would  have  to  refuse  to  speak  in  the  Methodist 
Church  or  not  come  to  the  Vatican.  We  all  know 
how  he  went  to  the  Methodist  Church  and  cut  the 
Vatican.  Some  statesman  would  not  have  done  it. 
After  a  while  the  great  court  was  full,  contain- 
ing perhaps  ten  thousand  folks.  Several  bands  be- 
gan to  play  music  that  charged  the  air  and  thrilled 
the  soul.  There  was  a  flutter  in  the  balcony  in 
front  and*  a  still  greater  flutter  through  the  crowds, 
men  bowed  their  heads  and  moved  their  lips,  women 
closed  their  eyes,  hugged  their  crucifixes  tighter  and 
counted  their  beads.  Then  a  silver  trumpet  ap- 
peared from  a  window  above  as  if  an  angel  from 
heaven  had  come  to  blow  it;  for,  looking  into  it,  I 
saw  no  man.  Then  out  upon  the  air,  from  the 
mouth  of  that  silver  trumpet  came  the  sweetest 
strains  of  music  it  seemed  to  me  I  had  ever  listened 
to.  All  eyes  were  lifted  to  the  door  above,  and  the 
crowd  was  as  still  as  death.  Then  into  the  doorway 
stepped  the  snowwhite  figure  of  Pius  X,  pope  of 
Rome.  When  the  crowd  saw  him  it  almost  took  my 
breath  away,  for  I  had  not  expected  what  happened. 
I  had  supposed  they  would  be  still  and  reverent.  I 
have  never  seen  anything  like  it.  I  have  seen  the 
political  conventions  of  the  olden  days.  I  have  been 
in  the  crowd  when  Roosevelt  came  to  town,  and 
among  a  hundred  thousand  I  have  seen  him  show 
his  teeth.  I  have  seen  Bryan  send  up  his  guns  from 
the  trenches  in  a  multitude  that  shook  the  earth; 
but  I  have  never  seen  anything  like  that  Sunday 


230  TRAVELS   IN   THE    OLD   WORLD 

in  the  Vatican.     It  seemed  to  me  a  dozen  bands 
turned  loose  an  explosion  of  accumulated  music  that 
jarred  the  Vatican,  and  the  yells  and  screams  that 
rose  from  the  crowd  seemed  to  make  the  Tiber 
tremble.    Above  the  roar  I  heard  many  cry,  "Papa, 
Papa,"  which  in  their  language  meant  father  or 
pope.     After  Pius  had  received  their  acclaim  for 
a  while  he  bowed  his  head  and  raised  his  hand,  and 
as  though  a  hand  from  heaven  had  paralyzed  the 
crowd,  their  music  ceased,  their  lips  were  still,  and 
hugging  to  their  hearts  their  images,  they  fell  upon 
the  ground.  They  threw  kisses  at  him,  since  they 
were  too  far  away  to  kiss  his  foot,  and  mumbled 
out  their  prayers  to  him  as  though  they  had  sud- 
denly met  the   Lord   God  Almighty  face  to  face. 
While  the  preliminaries  were  going  on  we  held  a 
conference  to  know  what  to  do.    All  were  supposed 
to  bow.    Guards  and  soldiers,  as  well  as  priests  and 
fanatics,  were  all  about  us.    If  we  declined    to  do 
homage  to  their  god  we  knew  not  what  they  might 
do  to  us.    There  came  charging  through  the  flood- 
tide  of  my  blood  the  Protestant  fires  back  along  my 
ancestral  lines  from  the  days  of  Cromwell;  there 
rose  before  me  the  silken  colors  of  my  country's 
flag,  and  above  all  there  rose  the  Christ  of  God  who 
died  for  me  and  alone  deserved  my  worship.    I  am 
sure  my  brethren  felt  as  I  did.    So  when  the  crowd 
went  down  we  rose  straighter  and  stood  higher, 
looking  beyond  the  white  form  of  the  pope  of  Rome 
to  the  pure,  free  skies  above  his  head,  where  God  our 
Father  receives  from  earth  the  worship  of  His  chil- 
dren.   We  three  were  the  only  ones  in  that  part  of 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  231 

the  great  crowd  we  saw  standing.  There  may  have 
been  others  behind  us,  but  none  in  front  stood. 
Many  Protestants  stood  for  a  few  seconds,  but  could 
not  endure  the  strain  and  went  down.  All  the  time 
I  expected  a  blow  on  the  head  by  an  officer  or  wor- 
shipper because  we  did  not  worship  with  them,  but 
it  did  not  come.  When  he  had  whined  out  his 
droning  Latin  prayer  the  people  arose;  the  pope, 
leaning  on  the  arm  of  his  body  guard,  passed  back 
into  the  Vatican,  and  the  crowd  dispersed,  scatter- 
ing itself  through  the  streets  of  Rome.  We  made 
our  way  back  to  the  hotel  happy.  We  had  seen 
the  pope  of  Rome,  and  our  knees  (had  not  bowed 
to  him. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

ON  THE   SHORES   OF  CANAAN. 

The  long  looked-for  moment  in  the  journey  had 
come.  On  the  morning  of  July  6,  1914,  our  boat 
cast  anchor  off  from  Joppa,  and  our  eyes  rested 
on  the  hills  of  "The  Promised  Land."  Before  us 
lay  that  wonderful  little  strip  of  land  that  has 
wrought  its  name  in  the  fabric  of  human  history 
as  no  other  land  the  sun  ever  shone  on.  Other  lands 
have  been  great  in  the  world's  history  because  of 
the  might  of  their  brains  and  the  skill  of  their 
hands.  They  have  built  lasting  monuments  and  left 
their  names  written  forever  on  the  pages  of  his- 
tory. But  whatever  other  lands  have  done  since  the 
world  swung  out  fresh  from  the  hand  of  God,  it 
remained  for  this  little  plot  of  earth  along  the  Medi- 
terranean Sea  to  earn  in  the  record  of  history  the 
title,  "Holy  Land."  In  the  soil  of  these  hills  God 
selected  the  place  to  plant  the  Tree  of  Faith,  whose 
shade  was  destined  to  shelter  the  world.  Here  is 
the  only  place  of  which  history  has  any  knowledge 
that  the  Lord  God  walked  and  talked  in  living  form 
with  men.  Around  these  hills  and  historic  moun- 
tains He  tied  the  mighty  chain  of  His  never-failing 
love  and  moored  the  world  to  His  eternal  throne 
so  it  could  never  drift  away.  Here  He  built  with 
man  His  nation  and  set  up  His  kingdom,  sitting  in 
all  the  councils  of  His  people,  giving  them  their 
laws,  and  handing  down  from  heaven  the  patterns 
by  which  they  should  build.    Here  was  the  cradle  of 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  233 

His  church ;  here  His  own  Son  was  sent  to  save  the 
people,  and  they  shed  His  blood  upon  the  hills  God 
loved  so  well. 

Every  hill,  stream,  stone  and  tree  in  this  land 
has  a  history  of  joy  and  sorrow,  light  and  shadow, 
life  and  death,  that  would  fill  a  book.  Upon 
these  hills  the  Bible  was  made,  and  its  mighty 
characters  lived  in  flesh  and  blood  and  wrought  and 
died.  Is  it  strange  that  this  land  should  be  so  near 
to  the  heart  of  the  Christian?  Is  it  not  natural  that 
to  look  upon  it  and  set  foot  upon  its  shores  should 
give  feelings  that  cannot  be  recorded?  We  felt 
that  morning,  gazing  on  that  shore,  that  we  were 
coming  now  to  the  goal  of  all  our  travels,  and  it 
seemed  we  could  almost  see  the  living  figures  of 
the  giants  of  this  land  standing  on  the  shore  to 
meet  us. 

The  length  of  Palestine  is  one  hundred  and  fifty 
miles,  and  its  area,  both  east  and  west  of  the  river 
Jordan.  That  this  little  country  should  have  had 
a  history  above  all  lands  is  of  course  due  to  the  fact 
that  in  gaining  the  title,  "Holy  Land,"  it  records 
the  history  of  man,  God  and  the  devil  contending 
for  the  mastery. 

Is  it  not  strange  that  the  beautiful  and  peaceful 
hills  God  selected  to  plant  a  lovely  garden  for  His 
children  and  build  their  home,  should  have  been 
the  scene  of  the  worst  bloodshed  and  warfare  the 
nations  have  known?  This  country  was  repeatedly 
been  overrun  by  armies  which  have  wrested  it 
from  one  another.  It  (has  been  invaded  by  the 
Scythians,  the  Persians,  the  Parthians,  the  Persians 


234  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

again,  the  Turks  twice  the  Mongols  three  times, 
by  Alexander  the  Great,  by  the  Romans,  by  the 
Crusaders,  and  by  the  Turks  again,  who  have  held 
possession  for  nearly  eight  hundred  years.  The 
wonder  is  there  is  anything  left  after  the  invading 
hosts  and  heartless  vandals  have  preyed  upon  it  so 
long. 

Perhaps  this  is  a  good  place  to  remark  what  more 
and  more  seems  to  me  to  be  a  strange  stroke  of  the 
hand  of  Providence.  We  have  been  taught  from 
youth  that  "God  moves  in  mysterious  ways  His 
wonders  to  perform."  How  He  does  take  some  of 
the  works  of  the  devil  and  make  them  work  for  His 
glory  is  a  mighty  evidence  that  His  hand  in  on  the 
pilot  wheel.  It  seems  to  me  the  rankest  fatalist 
could  not  have  the  heart  to  accuse  God,  our  Maker 
and  Father,  of  being  the  author  of  the  sin,  shame 
and  misery  of  the  earth.  None  would  insult  heaven 
and  earth  by  claiming  God  was  in  league  with  the 
low  and  vile  government  of  Turkey,  and  yet  how  God 
has  put  His  hand  into  the  affairs  of  the  Turks  and 
other  evil  people  and  worked  out  things  for  His 
glory  is  a  study  great  and  true.  If  Palestine  had 
not  fallen  into  the  hands  of  the  Turks,  who  believed 
in  no  advancement,  and  refused  to  let  its  sacred 
shrines  and  objects  be  explored  by  modern  mer- 
chants; even  preserving  almost  entirely  the  very 
life  and  customs  of  the  olden  times,  because  they 
believed  in  nothing  new,  we  might  have  lost  forever 
from  the  earth  the  Bible  land  as  it  was.  For  the 
greatest  value  of  Palestine  to  Bible  students  is  that 
it  is  not  modern,  but  is  almost  as  it  was  before  the 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD  WORLD  235 

days  of  Jesus.  Modern  changes  have  only  recently 
begun  to  take  hold,  but  soon  will  sweep  the  country 
as  the  Turks  pass  forever  from  the  stage  of  history 
and  modern  nations  occupy  the  sacred  hills.  What 
they  will  do  with  it  remains  to  be  seen. 

We  were  now  ready  to  land  and  begin  our  long 
trip  through  the  holy  hills.  Long  had  my  heart 
throbbed  in  anticipation  of  the  days  now  before 
me.  The  dream  over  which  I  had  planned  and 
prayed  so  long  was  ready  to  come  true.  This  was 
really  the  Promised  Land,  and  now  my  feet  would 
walk  upon  it.  I  wondered  if  it  would  be  disap- 
pointing? I  almost  dreaded  it.  Would  closer  view 
and  real  touch  take  away  any  of  the  sacredness  of 
that  history?  Would  what  I  should  see  of  sin  and 
common  clay  lower  my  idea  of  the  Bible  and  weaken 
my  faith  in  God  and  Jesus  Christ  my  Savior?  T 
had  heard  of  those  upon  whom  this  result  had  come. 
I  heard  some  of  my  friends  say  they  did  not  want 
to  go  for  fear  it  would  thus  affect  them.  If  the 
journey  would  bring  this  result  to  me  I  wanted 
then  to  turn  my  face  the  other  way  and  go  home. 
Behind  those  hills  my  faith  was  anchored  to  the 
truth  they  knew.  On  the  mighty  rocks  out  there 
my  soul  was  moored  to  the  faith  that  arose  one 
day.  The  breeze  of  this  land  had  swept  my  soul, 
and  its  songs  sounded  in  my  heart.  If  aught  of 
charm  should  pass  away ;  if  one  whit  less  the  chain 
of  faith  should  hold  me  to  the  truth;  if  a  single 
cloud  should  pass  across  the  sun  of  hope  that  shone 
from  over  these  hills  upon  my  soul  because  of  this 
journey  now  before  us,  I  wanted  to  say  "good-bye" 


236  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

to  my  friends  and  let  them  go  on  without  me,  leav- 
ing me  to  return  deprived  of  the  journey,  but  pos- 
sessing still  the  cherished  charm  of  the  things  of 
God. 

I  am  glad  to  say,  now  that  the  journey  is  over 
and  I  am  back  again  pursuing  my  humble  course 
over  the  hills  herding  my  Master's  sheep,  that  no 
such  result  came  to  my  soul.  Whatever  the  result 
may  be  to  those  who  make  that  journey,  it  has  done 
more  for  me  than  my  fondest  dream  had  pictured. 
My  faith  has  been  reinforced  with  the  iron  bands 
of  living  reality;  the  truth  has  come  for  my  eyes 
to  see  and  my  hands  to  touch;  my  soul  has  been 
lightened  with  a  radiance  I  could  find  no  where 
else  on  earth ;  the  Bible  and  all  its  history  is  covered 
with  a  charm  it  never  had  before.  These  are  some 
of  the  results  that  came  to  me  as  I  traveled  through 
the  Holy  Land,  my  Bible  in  hand,  reading  the  his- 
tory, life  and  gospel  it  had  made  in  those  places, 
with  a  prayer  upon  my  lips  that  God  would  make 
it  real. 

One  essential  thing  to  a  pleasant  and  profit- 
able trip  through  Palestine  is  to  have  the  right  kind 
of  a  dragoman  and  guides,  for  much  depends  upon 
them.  Our  dragoman  was  Philip  Jallouk,  and  his 
assistants  were  his  brothers,  George,  Charlie  and 
Abashia.  I  don't  think  it  is  putting  it  too  strong 
to  say  nobody  in  Palestine  or  elsewhere  ever  had 
a  better  set  of  men  to  guide  them.  This  is  proven 
by  the  fact  that  they  had  charge  of  Miss  Helen 
Gould  and  her  party  a  few  years  ago  when  she 
made  a  tour  of  the  Holy  Land,  and  they  received 


TRAVELS   IN  THE   OLD  WORLD  237 

from  her  the  highest  commendation.  They  are 
Syrians,  and  descendants  of  the  best  families  of 
the  days  of  the  Crusaders.  Perhaps  their  race  even 
goes  back  and  takes  up  the  blood  of  Abraham. 
They  are  intelligent,  cultured,  educated  Christian 
gentlemen,  being  faithful  members  of  the  Episcopal 
Church  in  Jerusalem.  They  were  kind  and  friendly, 
doing  everything  possible  for  our  welfare  and  com- 
fort. They  spoke  English  with  as  much  ease  as 
they  did  their  own  tongue.  In  fact,  they  were  at 
home  in  any  tongue  they  found  in  that  land.  Philip, 
especially,  was  one  of  the  most  attractive  person- 
alities I  have  met.  There  was  a  charm  about  his 
manner,  his  mellow  voice,  and  the  warmth  of  his 
soul  that  drew  us  all  to  him.  He  was  thoroughly  ver- 
sed in  the  Bible  as  well  as  all  the  life  and  custom 
of  Palestine,  and  his  reverence  and  devotion  to  his 
Lord  and  His  land  was  beautiful.  We  cannot  feel 
too  highly  our  debt  to  Philip  in  making  our  jour- 
ney a  pleasant  and  profitable  one.  Philip  was  the 
general  director  and  lecturer,  while  George  looked 
after  the  business  side  of  the  trip,  and  Charlie  and 
Abashia  attended  to  the  personal  needs  of  the  party. 
Much  has  been  said  about  the  rough  landing  at 
Joppa,  and  perhaps  it  all  is  deserved.  There  is  no 
harbor  here,  and  the  water  is  nearly  always  rough, 
since  there  is  nothing  to  break  the  waves.  The 
boats  anchored  out  some  distance  from  the  shore  and 
little  boats  came  gliding  like  ducks  through  the 
rough  and  jagged  rocks  to  take  us  ashore.  About 
two  hundred  of  them  ran  alongside  our  ships  and 
their  owners  came  onto  the  decks  like  rats  in  a  bin, 


238  TRAVELS   IN    THE    OLD   WORLD 

climbing  over  one  another  and  up  the  sides  of  the 
boat  like  squirrels.  They  beseiged  us  and  seized 
us,  clattering  and  clamoring  in  their  jabbering, 
until  we  almost  had  to  fight  to  keep  them  from  tak- 
ing us  bodily  away. 

After  awhile  we  found  our  guides,  were  assigned 
to  our  boats,  and  started  for  land.  The  boats  lay 
along  side  the  ship  rising  and  falling  with  the 
waves.  It  seemed  to  me  they  rose  as  high  as  a 
house.  We  were  started  down  the  ladder  like  cat- 
tle, and  as  the  little  boats  rose  on  the  crest  of  the 
waves  we  were  shoved  into  them  before  the  waves 
receded  and  they  went  down.  Sometimes  people 
would  hesitate,  and  they  were  picked  up  and  pitched 
over  like  sacks  of  corn.  When  our  boats  were  full 
we  made  our  way  through  the  jagged  rocks,  guided 
by  the  skill  of  our  oarsmen,  who  saw  to  it  no  evil 
befell  us.  Yet,  in  spite  of  their  skill,  many  acci- 
dents occur  in  these  rough  and  dangerous  waters. 

Joppa  is  noted  in  Bible  history  for  several  things. 
It  was  in  these  waters  here  that  Jonah  went  down 
in  a  submarine.  He  was  swallowed  because  he  got 
on  the  wrong  track,  and  many  men  to-day  get  swal- 
lowed because  they  get  on  the  wrong  ship.  I  re- 
cently met  an  educated  (?)  youth  who  wanted  to 
question  the  orthodoxy  of  this  Bible  story.  He  said 
a  whale  could  not  swallow  a  man  for  his  throat  was 
only  six  inches  wide.  I  told  him  that  was  easy.  If 
he  was  to  meet  a  whale  in  the  road  it  would  scare 
him  so  he  would  shrink  up  until  he  could  go  through 
an  inch  auger  hole,  and  I  guess  Jonah  did  the  same 
thing.     I  then  called  his  attention  to  the  fact  that 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD  WORLD  239 

the  Bible  did  not  say  it  was  a  whale,  but  "the  Lord 
prepared  a  fish"  for  the  occasion.  If  God  could 
make  some  things  He  has  made,  does  it  not  seem 
that  he  could  fix  up  a  fish  to  swallow  a  sinner? 
But  Jonah  didn't  stay  down.  You  can't  keep  a  good 
man  down,  and  I  reckon  some  sinners  would  taste 
so  bad  a  fish  could  not  keep  them  down.  My  same 
young  friend,  who  was  tainted  with  higher  or  lower 
criticism,  I  don't  know  which,  was  also  puzzled  over 
Baalam's  experience.  He  said  it  was  unreasonable 
to  think  of  an  ass  talking,  and  asked  me  if  I  had 
ever  heard  one  talk.  I  replied  that  I  had  a  great 
many  times.    I  was  listening  to  one  then. 

Joppa  is  also  noted  because  it  is  the  chief  sea- 
port to  Jerusalem.  From  the  interior  commerce 
comes  to  Joppa  to  be  exported,  and  into  Joppa 
comes  a  large  amount  of  the  imports  for  Palestine. 
Here  Solomon  landed  the  timbers  for  the  temple  in 
Jerusalem.  They  were  brought  by  ships  down 
from  the  Lebanon  Mountains.  Here  also  was 
landed  the  gold  and  silver  from  Tyre.  In  those  days 
of  limited  machinery  it  must  have  been  a  task  to 
get  these  timbers  out  of  the  mountains,  down  to 
the  boats,  and  then  get  them  from  Joppa  fifty  miles 
over  rough  hills  to  Jerusalem. 

We  landed  in  the  midst  of  confusion.  Traders, 
beggars,  donkeys,  camels,  and  other  things  bade 
us  welcome.  The  poor  beasts  were  groaning  under 
heavy  burdens.  It  is  a  land  heavy  laden  and  full 
of  burdens. 

Through  dirty  streets  we  made  our  way,  passing 
camels  and  donkeys  who  poked  their  noses  into  us 


240  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

uninvited  and  almost  ran  over  us.  We  stopped  to 
get  a  picture  of  the  street  cleaning  department  of 
the  city,  which  consisted  of  an  Arab  boy  loading 
garbage  in  a  basket  on  a  donkey's  back.  Some 
buildings  we  passed  we  were  told  were  soap  fac- 
tories. If  so,  the  people  there  must  be  like  our  doc- 
tors, who  will  not  take  the  medicine  they  prescribe 
for  other  folks. 

We  came  presently  to  the  house  of  Simon  the 
tanner,  who  lived  by  the  seaside;  and  climbed  to 
the  top  of  the  house  where  Peter  saw  the  vision  of 
the  sheet  descending  from  heaven  and  was  taught 
the  great  lesson  that  God  is  no  respector  of  persons. 
God  brought  Cornelius  to  him  there  to  be  converted. 
(Acts  10).  This  may  not  be  the  exact  site,  but  it 
is  surely  near  it.  It  was  here  also,  that  Peter  raised 
Dorcas  from  the  dead,  as  her  friends  gathered  about 
her,  showing  the  garments  which  she  had  made 
for  them.  We  visited  her  beautiful  tomb  erected 
by  the  Greek  Church,  which  has  honored  this  faith- 
ful woman.  A  greater  honor  to  her  memory  would 
be  to  organize  Dorcas  Societies  here,  as  has  been 
done  elsewhere  in  the  world,  and  try  to  lift  the  peo- 
ple up.  But  they  think  the  building  of  great  tombs 
is  the  greatest  way  they  can  honor  the  memory  of 
people. 

Joppa  is  one  of  the  oldest  cities  of  the  world. 
It  was  given  to  the  tribe  of  Dan  in  the  distribution 
of  Palestine,  and  has  been  in  existence  most  of  the 
time  ever  since,  though  sacked,  pillaged  and  de- 
stroyed many  times.  Napoleon  seized  the  city,  and 
the  mighty  Saladin  captured  it  in  the  days  of  the 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  241 

Crusaders.  Not  far  from  here,  while  Saladin's  army 
was  camping,  Richard  led  2,700  prisoners  on  a  hill 
where  they  could  be  seen  and  cut  them  to  pieces  in 
his  sight,  the  soldiers  trying  to  recover  jewels  they 
believed  them  to  have  swallowed.  Their  galls  were 
cut  out  and  saved  for  medicine.  This  gives  an  idea 
of  what  has  occurred  on  the  holy  hills  in  the  name 
of  religion. 

Joppa  is  a  busy,  active  city,  and  while  it  is  full 
of  filth  and  poverty,  as  all  these  cities  are,  it 
has  much  magnificence.  There  are  two  Turkish 
churches  and  a  Greek  church  that  are  imposing.  In 
and  around  the  town  are  some  of  the  finest  orange 
orchards  of  the  world,  as  well  as  other  orchards. 
The  crops  are  raised  by  irrigation.  It  is  crude,  but 
it  answers,  and  it  shows  what  all  Palestine  could 
do  if  the  custom  was  followed. 

We  boarded  the  train  at  the  little  station  in  the 
edge  of  the  city  in  the  early  afternoon,  and  turned 
our  faces  across  the  Plain  of  Sharon.  Wonderful 
plain  this  is.  It  seems  that  it  could  feed  the  entire 
country.  As  far  as  eye  could  see  was  wheat  in  the 
harvest  fields  and  flocks  of  goats  and  sheep.  These 
Syrian  sheep  differ  from  ours  chiefly  on  account  of 
the  big  tails,  on  which  the  fat  accumulates  until 
often  it  weighs  several  pounds.  Their  tails  often 
hang  almost  to  the  ground.  The  fat  is  hung  up  to 
dry  and  used  for  cooking  purposes,  as  it  is  needed. 
From  the  moment  of  our  arrival  until  our  departure 
from  Palestine  we  were  hardly  out  of  sight  of 
sheep  and  goats,  and  many  times  our  minds  turned 
to  the  many  beautiful  and  important  truths  the 


242  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

Master  taught  from  these  domestic  animals.  David's 
herds  fed  upon  this  plain.  (1st  Chron.  27:29).  Beau- 
tiful beyond  description  is  the  plain  when  in  spring- 
time it  is  carpeted  with  a  mass  of  many  flowers 
glistening  with  dew  in  the  sunbeams.  Chief  among 
these  flowers  is  the  Anemones  or  Rose  of  Sharon, 
which  tuned  the  songs  of  Israel's  poets  more  than 
once.  In  Song  2:1,  the  Bride  speaks  of  herself,  "I 
am  the  Rose  of  Sharon,  a  lily  of  the  valleys."  In 
Isa.  35:2,  the  prophet  speaking  of  the  future  of 
Zion,  says,  "The  glory  of  Lebanon  shall  be  given 
unto  it,  the  excellency  of  Carmel  and  Sharon.,,  In 
other  prophecies  the  Book  deals  with  Sharon. 
"Sharon  shall  be  a  fold  for  flocks/'    How  true  that  is. 

On  this  plain  we  first  saw  the  natives  threshing 
their  wheat — for  it  was  harvest  time — in  the  same 
way  they  did  before  the  days  of  Christ.  They  pile 
their  wheat  upon  the  threshing  ground  and  drive 
cattle  over  it  until  the  wheat  is  separated,  then  they 
throw  it  into  the  air  and  the  breeze  blows  the  chaff 
away.  As  we  saw  this  scene  there  came  to  our 
minds  the  solemn  figure  of  the  Lord's  description 
of  the  Judgment,  when  the  righteous  should  be  sep- 
arated from  the  lost. 

After  a  journey  of  fifteen  miles  we  left  the  Plain 
of  Sharon  and  passed  into  the  hills.  About  us  the 
olive  trees  were  white  and  green  in  the  sun.  Figs, 
apricots  and  sycamore  fruit  were  in  evidence.  At 
one  of  the  stations  I  bought  a  little  tin  pan  full  of 
this  fruit  for  a  penny  or  two.  I  gave  the  boy  his 
money,  but  he  began  to  cry  as  the  train  made  ready 
to  go,  thinking  I  intended  going  off  with  his  pan. 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD  WORLD  243 

There  is  a  great  deal  of  this  fruit  in  Palestine  and 
in  the  days  of  the  country's  glory  there  was  still 
more.  It  is  eaten  especially  by  the  poorer  classes 
and  is  similar  to  figs.  The  taste  is  not  very  pleasant. 
These  trees  are  small  and  bushy  and  it  was  easy  for 
Zachaeus  to  climb  one  when  Jesus  passed  by.  When 
the  Prophet  Amos  was  called  to  his  work  he  was  a 
dresser  of  these  trees.  Amos  7:14.  We  also  saw 
for  the  first  time  the  Carob  tree  or  Prodigal  son 
tree.  It  grows  a  bean  that  is  used  for  food  by  the 
poorer  classes  and  for  feeding  purposes,  and  it  was 
to  these  husks  that  the  Prodigal  turned  for  food  as 
he  fed  the  hogs. 

Our  route  brought  us  through  the  scene  of  the 
most  of  Samson's  career  and  with  my  Bible  I  read 
of  his  rough  and  shadowed  life  as  we  came  to  the 
places  linked  with  his  name.  There  was  Zorah, 
where  he  was  born,  and  his  mother  dedicated  him 
to  God  with  high  hopes  for  his  future.  On  the 
mountain  side,  to  the  left,  we  saw  the  cave  pointed 
out  as  the  place  where  he  met  the  Philistines  as 
they  crowded  him  and  hurled  thousands  of  them 
down  and  slew  them  with  a  jaw  bone.  Here  was 
the  place  he  tied  the  tails  of  the  foxes  together  and 
set  fire  brands  on  them  and  burned  the  Philistine 
corn.  It  perhaps  would  have  cleared  up  the  matter 
to  those  who  have  wondered  how  Samson  caught 
three  hundred  foxes,  to  have  heard  Philip  say  jack- 
alls  have  always  been  called  foxes  and  that  they 
go  in  large  numbers  and  can  be  easily  caught.  Not 
far  from  where  we  passed,  this  giant  met  his  doom. 
Like  the  pure  and  singing  brooks  of  his  native  hills, 


244  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

he  went  a  downward  course  until  he  sought  the  low 
lands,  where,  though  strong  and  mighty,  yet  pol- 
luted, he  entered  eternity's  boundless  sea.  There 
has  not  been  a  more  pathetic  figure  in  the  path  of 
history  than  Samson  facing  the  Philistines  the  last 
time,  shaking  himself  with  his  old-time  confidence 
as  he  raised  his  mighty  arm  to  strike  them  down, 
only  to  find  that  arm  had  lost  its  strength  while  he 
slept  in  the  lap  of  sin. 

Our  little  train  also  took  us  by  Bethshemesh, 
where  God  slew  fifty  thousand  Philistines  because 
they  tried  to  capture  the  Ark  of  Israel.  1  Sam.  6; 
also  the  supposed  home  of  Joseph  of  Aramathea 
a  faithful  friend  of  Jesus  in  whose  tomb  Jesus  was 
buried.  Joseph  and  Nicodemus  were  the  only  two 
friends  Jesus  found  in  the  Jewish  Sandhedrin's 
seventy  Elders  of  Israel. 

The  course  of  the  train  as  it  made  its  way  slowly 
through  the  mountains  of  Israel  crossed  the  Valley 
of  Ajalon,  noted  because  it  was  here  Joshua  ordered 
the  sun  to  stand  still  that  he  might  finish  destroying 
the  Gibeonites  before  the  night  came.  These  moun- 
tains were  barren  yet,  in  many  places  covered  with 
olive  trees  and  showing  the  ruins  of  terisses,  where 
in  olden  times  the  trees  grew  in  such  abundance  as 
to  cover  the  mountains. 

Our  train  made  a  halt  at  a  little  station  near 
Philip's  fountain,  where  the  Apostle  Philip  baptized 
the  Eunuch.  Here  we  had  the  laugh  on  our  good 
Baptist  friends.  Our  guide  Philip,  was  describing 
the  event  to  us  while  we  listened.  All  around  it  was 
desolate  and  barren.     One  of  our  Baptist  brethren 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  245 

asked,  "Where  is  the  fountain"  ?  Philip  replied  there 
was  no  fountain  here  and  never  had  been.  Then 
he  added  "They  didn't  baptize  by  immersion  in 
those  days,  everybody  was  baptized  by  sprinkling." 

On  we  went  by  the  spot  pointed  out  as  the  home 
of  the  old  Saint  Simeon,  who  blest  the  infant  Je- 
sus in  the  Temple  at  Jerusalem  and  with  wonderful 
prophetic  insight  called  Him  "A  light  to  lighten  the 
Gentiles,  and  the  Glory  of  Thy  people  Israel."  Luke 
2 :32.  Philip  pointed  out  to  us  the  hill  upon  which 
David  was  when  God  gave  him  the  signal  to  attack 
the  Philistines,  which  was  the  moving  among  the 
mulberry  trees.    2  Sam.  5 :24. 

We  had  climbed  to  the  top  of  the  mountain  pla- 
teau and  were  nearing  the  Holy  City.  Our  path  had 
brought  us  through  the  territory  of  Dan  and  the 
section  occupied  by  the  mighty  Philistines  who  were 
the  strongest  enemies  Israel  feared  and  whom  they 
never  completely  conquered.  Palestine  received  its 
name  from  this  tribe  and  was  known  as  the  land  of 
Philistia  later  Philistin  land,  and  then  Palestine. 
What  strange  feelings  came  to  us  this  day  as  we 
passed  over  the  scenes  of  this  Bible  history.  But 
what  greater  experiences  were  yet  before  us?  We 
were  nearing  Jerusalem!  I  stood  on  the  platform 
of  the  little  train  and  looked  out  to  get  the  first 
view  of  the  Holy  City !  Who  could  describe  the  feel- 
ings at  the  first  vision  of  Jerusalem!  Around  a  hill 
the  city  came  suddenly  before  my  eyes  as  if  it  had 
been  let  down  from  heaven.  There  was  the  Mount  of 
Olives  with  its  churches  and  olive  trees,  the  Kedron 
valley  and  Gethsemane,  between   it  and  the  city 


246  TRAVELS  IN   THE   OLD  WORLD 

walls;  the  city  on  a  hill  with  the  mountains  all 
around;  the  dome  of  the  Mosque  of  Omar,  the  cite 
of  Solomon's  Temple.  There  came  to  my  mind  the 
words  of  the  sweet  singer  of  Israel  "As  the  moun- 
tains are  round  about  Jerusalem  so  the  Lord  is 
round  about  his  people  from  this  time  forth  and 
forever  more."  Ps.  125 :2. 

The  train  moved  slowly  into  the  station  and  half 
dazed  we  got  off.  A  crowd  was  here  to  meet  the 
crowd  that  the  train  had  brought.  Many  pilgrims  of 
Jews  and  Mohammedans  as  well  as  American  and 
English  tourists  crowded  this  little  train  into  Je- 
rusalem. In  the  crowd  that  surged  about  the  little 
station  I  saw  a  very  touching  scene. 

A  bright-faced,  happy  looking  Jewish  girl  was 
coming  home  after  two  years  absence  in  a  Christian 
school  and  her  mother  was  there  to  meet  her.  Oh 
how  she  did  break  down  and  weep  with  unspeakable 
joy!  Words  came  not  to  her  lips.  Her  old  mother's 
face  was  full  of  love  and  down  the  wrinkles  of  her 
cheeks  the  tears  ran  in  little  rivers.  These  scenes 
made  me  think  of  another  day  and  another  city — the 
heavenly  Jerusalem  instead  of  the  earthly  one.  The 
old  ship  of  Zion  after  perilous  journeys  over  many 
seas  and  through  many  storms  is  nearing  the  Haven 
of  Rest  on  the  Shores  of  the  River  of  Life.  The 
host  of  heaven  from  the  City  not  made  with  hands 
come  down  to  meet  the  ship  that  is  coming  in  and 
welcome  those  on  board  to  tjie  heavenly  home! 
Those  who  land  are  searching  the  heavenly  throng 
for  the  faces  of  their  loved  ones  and  those  who  have 
watched  the  ship  come  in  are  looking  for  the  faces 
of  those  they  love.    The  mother  sees  her  child  and 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  247 

they  fly  into  each  others  arms.  Mothers  clasp  again 
to  their  hearts  the  little  ones  they  have  "long  since 
lost  but  not  forgot."  Sisters  and  brothers,  hus- 
bands and  wives  and  friends  are  meeting  and  greet- 
ing one  another  in  that  happy  land.  No  tears  are 
in  any  eyes,  no  trouble  on  any  face.  Above  them 
stands  the  blessed  Savior  with  the  light  of  eternal 
love  upon  his  beautiful  face  and  the  words  of  wel- 
come on  his  lips  while  the  blood-washed  throng  of 
a  hundred  and  forty  and  four  thousand  burst  forth 
in  singing 

Up  to  the  bountiful  mansions — 

Gathering  Home!  Gathering  Home! 

Safe  in  the  arms  of  His  infinite  love 
God's  children  are  gathering  home. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 
RELIGIOUS  AND  SOCIAL  CONDITIONS  IN   PALESTINE. 

Published  in  Methodist  Quarterly  Review  January 

1922. 

The  world  has  never  been  more  interested  in  Pales- 
tine than  now.  This  little  piece  of  land  between 
the  river  Jordan  and  the  Mediterranean,  about  the 
size  of  South  Carolina,  has  given  to  the  world  three 
of  its  greatest  religions  and  all  things  worth  while 
that  go  to  hold  earth's  constitutions  and  civilization 
together.  It  seems  strange  that  a  land  that  won  the 
title  of  "The  Holy  Land"  because  it  was  the  birth- 
place of  the  world's  religion  and  the  world's  Re- 
deemer should  have  been  for  ages  a  seat  of  war  and 
bloodshed.  The  land  has  been  overrun  by  conquer- 
ing armies  fifty  times,  and  there  is  hardly  a  square 
inch  of  dirt  or  a  stone  that  has  not  been  wet  with 
human  blood. 

Palestine  has  gained  a  new  and  important  place 
in  the  geography  and  history  of  the  world  because 
of  its  part  in  the  great  World  War.  Few  students  of 
world  issues  with  causes  and  effects  of  the  late  war 
have  realized  the  importance  of  Palestine  in  the 
great  stuggle.  This  is  one  of  the  most  interesting 
and  fruitful  fields  of  modern  thought,  but  can  now 
only  be  alluded  to  in  its  bearing  on  the  question 
before  us.  The  thunders  of  the  guns  in  Flanders 
and  France  so  filled  our  ears  that  we  did  not  think 
much  of  the  entrance  of  the  gallant  Allenby  and  his 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  249 

brave  army  through  the  breach  in  the  walls  of  the 
Holy  City  made  twenty  years  before  for  William 
Hohenzollern  to  enter  in  royal  pomp.  This  was  the 
rebirth  of  Palestine  and  a  new  era  for  the  people 
who  live  there.  We  are  looking  now  toward  Jeru- 
salem and  giving  ourselves  with  new  zeal  to  the 
study  of  the  country,  its  people  and  its  history. 
Among  other  questions,  we  are  asking,  "What  are 
the  social  and  religious  conditions  of  Palestine?" 

It  was  my  privilege  to  travel  through  Palestine  in 
1914  and  also  in  1921.  In  the  interim,  I  eagerly 
devoured  everything  that  came  to  me.  Having  just 
returned  from  Palestine  and  having  been  asked  by 
the  editor  to  contribute  an  article  on  this  subject, 
I  am  happy  to  call  one  of  my  choice  hobbies  from  the 
stable  and  ride  him  some.  The  message  will  be 
plain  and  simple,  and  many  things  will  have  to  be 
left  out  as  we  glean  in  such  a  wide  field  for  so  short 
a  time;  but  if  the  interest  of  any  person  in  Bible 
Lands  and  their  people  will  be  quickened,  the  effort 
will  be  worth  while. 

In  studying  the  present  conditions  in  Palestine,  it 
must  be  remembered  that  the  Turks  dominated  the 
land  for  nearly  a  thousand  years.  Behind  the  Turks 
was  the  siege  of  the  crusaders  and  behind  them  the 
dark  ages  of  Israel's  lapse  from  the  religion  of 
Jehovah  into  heathenism.  It  is  not  necessary  to 
undertake  any  tirade  against  the  Turk  or  any  de- 
scription of  his  morals  and  his  manners.  It  is  a 
marvel  that  Palestine  has  survived  so  well  under  his 
heathen  rule.  John  R.  Mott  says :  "If  the  Turk  can- 
not find  a  desert  to  live  in,  he  will  make  a  desert  out 


250  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

of  something  else  and  live  in  it."  He  also  says  that 
Mohammedanism  is  the  most  formidable  foe  Christi- 
anity has  met  since  Jesus  was  born.  Mohammedans 
are  known  the  world  over  for  their  low  ideas,  their 
debauchery  of  life,  their  degradation  of  womanhood, 
and  their  guilt  of  all  the  blackest  and  lowest  crimes 
known  to  man.  A  thousand  years  of  such  rule  must 
produce  a  deplorable  state  in  religious  and  social  life. 

It  must  also  be  remembered  that  the  Christain 
Church  put  forth  but  a  feeble  effort  to  counteract 
this  Moslem  curse  and  make  the  Holy  Land  a  Chris- 
tian Land.  We  have  been  greatly  interested  in  tak- 
ing the  gospel  to  China,  Japan,  Africa,  and  the  is- 
lands of  the  sea,  but  it  seems  that  we  have  thought 
little  or  cared  little  about  seeing  it  triumph  among 
the  hills  where  it  was  born  and  where  our  great 
Redeemer  first  spoke  its  golden  words  of  life  and 
light  to  the  listening  ears  of  man.  This  neglect  of 
the  very  home  land  of  our  Lord  and  our  religion  has 
been  a  strange,  sad  blunder  on  the  part  of  the  Church 
of  Christ. 

Missionary  efforts  have  not  been  entirely  lack- 
ing, but  they  have  been  far  below  what  they  should 
have  been.  The  American  University  in  Beirut  has 
been  a  strong  factor  in  influencing  the  life  of  Pales- 
tine and  Syria.  Missions  under  the  English  and  the 
Presbyterian  Boards  have  operated  with  small  sta- 
tions in  Bethlehem,  Nazareth,  Tiberius,  and  Safed, 
but  they  have  been  weak  and  lacking  in  support. 
The  Christian  Alliance  has  long  had  a  very  active 
work  in  Jerusalem.  All  of  these  have  done  great 
good  in  keeping  the  light  from  going  out  in  the  homes 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  251 

and  among  the  women,  where  their  main  efforts 
were,  but  they  have  been  hampered  by  their  weak- 
ness. 

The  Roman  and  Greek  Catholic  Churches  have 
been  strong,  but  have  been  so  honeycombed  with 
superstitution  and  formality  that  they  have  not  been 
a  great  force  for  morality  and  godliness.  They  have, 
like  the  Moslems,  spent  much  money  gathered  from 
tax  on  their  subjects  to  build  gorgeous  churches. 
There  is  great  need  of  large  sums  from  the  Protes- 
tant Churches  to  build  imposing  and  attractive 
churches  and  schools  in  commanding  places  and 
equip  them  with  a  strong  force  of  prepared  and  con- 
secrated workers.  We  could  then  compete  with  the 
Catholic  and  Mohammedan  Churches  in  our  appeal 
for  attention  and  following.  These  people  are  very 
susceptible  to  such  impressions;  and  as  great  fools 
as  we  take  the  Catholics  and  Moslems  to  be,  they 
have  built  churches  that  are  appealing  to  the  Orien- 
tal mind  and  put  them  at  the  shrines  and  command- 
ing places  rather  than  having  a  poor  shack  on  a  side 
street  like  we  have  in  some  cases.  If  we  were  wise 
here  as  we  are  in  other  places,  we  could  soon  make 
Palestine  a  really  Christian  country,  for  there  is  no 
mission  field  with  doors  wider  open  and  a  stronger 
Macedonian  call. 

The  people  of  Palestine  are  naturally  and  consti- 
tutionally a  religious  people,  having  descended  from 
a  long  religious  line  that  traces  its  path  back  to  the 
olden  days  of  Israel's  altars.  The  native  mind  of 
this  Oriental  world  is  inclined  to  believe  far  too 
m«di.    The  supernatural  appeals  to  them  more  than 


252  TRAVELS   IN    THE   OLD   WORLD  ^      . 

the  natural,  furnishing  fertile  soil  for  the  fake 
priests,  who  have  ever  plied  their  trade  in  super- 
stitious trickery.  The  crop  has  been  a  wonderful 
collection  of  miraculous  performances  and  legends. 
You  are  shown  the  rod  Aaron  used  and  are  told  that 
it  still  has  magic  power.  Stories  of  the  divine  fires 
that  fall  at  intervals,  the  print  on  the  rock  Omar 
where  the  Prophet  bumped  his  head  (he  must  have 
had  a  hard  one),  the  suspended  rock  that  tried  to 
follow  him  to  heaven,  sacred  bones,  blood  spots,  and 
pieces  of  garments  with  wonder-working  power  are 
a  few  of  the  multitude  of  supernatural  stories  they 
believe  as  they  believe  that  the  sun  shines.  But, 
strong  as  the  impression  this  superstitious  religion 
has  made,  it  has  had  in  it  little  that  gives  moral  tone 
to  human  life.  A  religious  mind  like  this,  however, 
furnishes  good  soil  for  the  real  things  of  the  gospel. 
The  most  deplorable  thing  about  Mohammedanism 
is  its  blight  on  womanhood  and  home  life.  Women 
were  chattels  without  soul,  little  less  than  slaves, 
confined  most  of  the  time  at  home ;  and  when  they 
left  the  confines  of  their  prison  homes,  they  went 
with  heathen  veils  over  their  faces.  It  was  con- 
sidered a  curse  for  a  girl  baby  to  be  borne  in  a  home : 
the  mother  was  scorned  and  the  father  snubbed.  The 
Koran  allowed  four  wives  to  each  husband,  and  added 
the  liberal  provision,  "If  he  wanted  more,  let  him 
have  them,  for  Allah  was  merciful  and  kind."  Girls 
were  married  when  mere  children.  There  were  few 
schools  open  to  boys,  and  still  fewer  open  to  girls. 
A  few  years  ago  it  was  estimated  that  nearly  nine- 
tenths  of  the  natives  were  illiterate.     The  women 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  253 

then  seldom  went  to  religious  services  and  had  prac- 
tically no  social  life. 

Other  awful  fruits  of  Turkish  sowing  were  the 
fearful  health  and  sanitary  conditions.  There  is 
now  one  reputable  physican  for  every  twenty-five 
thousand  of  the  population  in  Palestine  and  Syria. 
Before  the  war,  it  would  have  been  nearer  the  truth 
to  place  it  at  one  for  every  one  hundred  thousand. 
Flies  and  filth  caused  the  spread  of  malaria,  typhus 
fever,  consumption,  leprosy,  and  that  widespread 
malady  that  hangs  like  a  pall  over  the  land — blind- 
ness. I  visited  the  new  hospital  in  Shechem  and  was 
told  by  the  superintendent  that  a  majority  of  their 
patients  were  suffering  from  disease  of  the  eyes  and 
that  nearly  all  of  it  was  caused  from  flies  and  filth. 
The  poor  babies  had  no  one  to  keep  the  filthy  flies  out 
of  their  eyes  when  they  were  helpless  and  were  given 
all  the  germs  that  could  be  gathered  by  these  scaven- 
gers. 

There  is  one  thing  that  must  be  said  to  the  credit 
of  the  women  of  Palestine  and  Syria :  with  all  they 
have  had  against  them,  they  have  a  better  moral 
standard  than  the  women  of  other  near-by-lands. 
Not  once  did  I  hear  any  member  of  our  party  say 
that  they  came  in  contact  with  any  woman  who  bore 
marks  of  the  underworld.  This  cannot  be  said  of 
any  other  part  of  our  pilgrimage. 

But  great  changes  are  being  wrought  in  Palestine. 
A  mighty  war  like  the  last  will  shake  the  foundations 
of  all  peoples ;  and  as  great  as  the  effect  may  be  on 
other  lands,  it  is  still  greater  in  Palestine.  It  took 
an  awful  toll  of  human  life.    One-third  of  the  entire 


254  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

population  of  Syria  died  of  disease  and  starvation. 
The  population  of  Jerusalem  was  cut  in  half,  being 
reduced  from  one  hundred  and  twenty  thousand  to 
sixty  thousand.  Many  of  these  were  killed,  many 
starved,  and  many  drifted  out,  none  but  God  knows 
where.  As  awful  as  this  was,  it  had  some  good 
effects,  because  the  country  had  always  been  overrun 
with  beggars  and  mendicants,  who  were  a  menace 
to  the  nation.  These  disappeared  first,  leaving  a 
better  chance  for  those  left  behind.  The  general 
thought  is  that  the  land  has  more  beggars  than  ever, 
whereas  the  truth  is  they  are  few  compared  with 
1914. 

On  Christmas  day,  1918,  God's  Christmas  gift  to 
Jerusalem  was  the  coming  of  the  British  army  and 
the  going  out  of  the  Turk.  And  nothing  is  truer 
than  that  the  retreat  of  the  terrible  Turk  is  forever 
and  the  British  have  come  to  stay.  It  is  hard  to 
refrain  from  remarking  on  the  crime  against  civili- 
zation that  the  nations  calling  themselves  Christian 
allowed  the  Turk  to  overrun  Palestine  and  Armenia 
so  long. 

Our  British  cousins  are  master  colonizers,  and 
with  their  coming  they  bring  better  things.  They 
make  mistakes,  but  they  build  up.  On  the  crest  of 
the  Mount  of  Olives  overlooking  Jerusalem  is  a 
beautiful  palace  erected  by  the  erstwhile  bragging 
bully  of  Berlin  for  one  of  his  sons  to  occupy  when 
the  House  of  Hohenzollern  ruled  the  world.  Over 
that  mansion  now  flies  the  Union  Jack,  for  this  is 
the  home  of  Sir  Samuel,  British  High  Commissioner 
of  Palestine. 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD  WORLD  255 

Beside  the  Joppa  gate  is  a  breach  in  the  wall,  made 
there  for  ex-Kaiser  to  enter  the  city  in  royal  splen- 
dor when  in  1898  he  rode  into  the  Holy  City  in  a 
chariot  drawn  by  snowwhite  horses.  He  was  there 
on  an  official  visit  felicitating  with  his  friend,  Adbul 
Hamid,  and  he  was  dreaming  of  another  day.  Twenty 
years  later  the  gentle  and  gallant  Allenby  led  the 
conquering  British  army  through  the  same  breach 
on  foot.  He  is  reported  to  have  declined  to  ride, 
saying  that  the  Kaiser  entered  riding  in  a  royal 
chariot,  Jesus  of  Nazareth  entered  riding  a  donkey, 
but  he  felt  unworthy  to  do  aught  but  walk. 

The  modern  tide  is  now  sweeping  over  the  Holy 
Hills  and  flowing  through  the  Holy  City.  Traffic 
police  stand  guard  in  Jerusalem  to  prevent  speeders 
from  running  over  Arabs  and  tourists.  Jerusalem 
has  a  telephone  exchange,  a  splendid  new  water 
system,  a  weekly  paper  published  in  English,  He- 
brew, and  Arabic,  electric  lights  shine  over  the  city, 
and  in  other  ways  the  people  are  catching  the  spirit 
of  Western  life. 

Great  work  has  been  done  by  the  Near  East  Or- 
ganization and  the  Red  Cross.  The  war  gave  them 
great  opportunities  of  service  in  the  lives  of  the 
people.  Closed  doors  were  opened  and  walls  of  pre- 
judice broken.  The  people  were  won  to  the  influence 
of  the  newcomers.  The  British  have  established 
government  schools  open  to  all,  and  the  churches 
now  have  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  schools  in  the 
land.  These  are  all  full  and  more  knocking  for  ad- 
mission. This  awakening  has  been  one  of  the  most 
noted  changes. 


256  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

But  the  most  notable  change  to  me  was  the  blow 
that  has  struck  Mohammedanism.  A  strange  change 
has  passed  over  the  children  of  the  Prophet.  In  1914 
the  weird  call  of  the  muezzin  from  the  minaret  was 
ever  in  your  ears,  and  when  he  called  the  faithful 
everywhere  could  be  seen  leaving  off  whatever  they 
were  doing,  if  they  chanced  to  be  doing  anything, 
and  turn  toward  Mecca  for  prayer.  In  1921  I  kept 
eye  and  ear  open,  but  seldom  heard  the  muezzin  call, 
and  during  the  whole  summer  I  did  not  see  a  dozen 
folk  at  prayer.  The  mosques  also  were  almost 
empty  save  for  lazy  loafers  taking  naps.  It  seemed 
that  with  the  breaking  of  Turkish  power  in  Pales- 
tine there  has  also  been  a  breaking  of  Mohammedan 
influence.  If  this  is  true,  it  greatly  strengthens  the 
plea  for  the  Church  of  Christ  to  hasten. 

Along  with  this  is  noted  the  wonderful  changes 
that  are  taking  place  among  the  women.  They  are 
fast  throwing  off  their  heathen  veils  and  are  turn- 
ing their  faces  to  the  sun.  They  are  donning  skirts 
almost  as  short  as  those  worn  by  their  Western 
sisters.  They  are  also  going  about  in  high-heel  shoes. 
Redemption  has  come  to  the  Palestine  women  after 
centuries  of  weary  waiting. 

Palestine  is  governed  by  a  mandate  from  the 
League  of  Nations  that  gives  Britain  the  power  of 
government  there.  It  is  one  of  the  wisest  and  most 
statesmanlike  papers  of  modern  times.  In  keeping 
with  the  first  order  issued  by  General  Allenby,  it 
^establishes  religious  freedom,  protects  all  sacred 
places,  permits  each  sect  that  controls  a  shrine  to 
continue  to  do  so.     Ecclesiastic  courts  and  bodies 


TRAVELS  IN  THE  OLD  WORLD  257 

are  recognized ;  but  there  is  a  wise  provision  to  the 
effect  that  where  any  dispute  arises  Great  Britain 
reserves  the  full  right  of  settlement. 

Palestine  is  to  be  known  as  the  "Jewish  National 
Home"  and  Jews  were  permitted  to  return  along 
with  all  others  who  come,  but  the  rights  of  all  must 
be  maintained.    Last  year,  which  was  the  first  year 
of  the  real  working  of  the  mandate,  ten  thousand 
Jews  entered  Palestine  seeking  an  asylum  and  home. 
It  is  interesting  to  note  that  three  hundred  of  these 
came  from  North  America,  while  the  most  of  the 
others  came  from  the  stricken  sections  of  Europe. 
In  voicing  a  strong  and  united  protest  to  this  in- 
vasion of  their  land,  the  natives  claim  that  they 
have  lived  there,  it  is  their  home,  and  it  is  manifest- 
ly unfair  to  allow  such  strangers  to  overrun  them. 
They  claim  also  that  the  most  of  these  newcomers 
were  dependents,  bringing  nothing  to  help  the  coun- 
try, but  coming  after  what  they  could  get.  Palestine 
was  weakened  and  drained  so  that  it  could  not  sup- 
port its  own  people,  not  to  mention  these  thousands. 
It  was  pointed  out  also  that  many  of  them  were  of 
such  low  type,  possessed  with  Bolshevistic  natures, 
that  they  would  prove  a  serious  menace  to  the  coun- 
try.   Few  of  them  were  people  of  Christian  ideals. 
If  they  had  come  into  a  country  with  established 
business  and  economic  conditions  strong  enough  to 
absorb  them  and  give  them  a  place  to  live  and  earn, 
where  society  could  control  them,  it  would  have  been 
different ;  but  Palestine  was  too  weak  to  do  this  for 
them  and  would  soon  fall  a  victim  to  their  preying. 
This  feeling  and  resentment  became  so  strong,  and 


258  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

the  Christians,  Mohammedans,  and  natives  protested 
so  much,  that  riots  broke  out  in  the  spring.  In  Joppa 
nearly  a  hundred  were  killed.  England  at  once  saw 
that  this  was  a  question  of  such  gravity  that  she 
put  a  stop  to  all  immigration  until  a  satisfactory 
agreement  could  be  reached. 

While  this  action,  which  the  natives  looked  upon 
as  a  serious  blinder,  lost  friends  for  England,  the 
people  of  this  land  still  believe  in  English  and  Ameri- 
can civilization  and  believe  that  these  two  countries 
are  the  only  two  countries  that  are  able  and  willing 
to  render  them  an  unselfish  service.  There  was  a 
strong  demand  for  America  to  take  the  mandate  over 
Syria,  and  the  people  voted  three  to  one  preferring 
our  nation  over  any  other.  They  threw  the  doors 
wide  open  and  called  loud  and  long,  but  our  seats 
of  the  mighty  were  at  that  time  filled  with  political 
checker  players,  and  not  missionary  statesmen,  who 
were  so  absorbed  in  their  petty  selfish  games  that 
they  heard  no  Macedonian  call. 

But  still  the  doors  of  service  are  wide  open  and 
the  call  continues  loud  and  long.  These  people  want 
the  blessings  we  have.  Sitting  in  the  shade  from 
the  heat  of  the  Syrian  sun  I  talked  with  my  friend 
Joe  Jabes,  an  Arab  from  the  far-away  Hills  of  Hau- 
ran.  As  the  soft  light  of  his  deep  brown  eyes  fell 
on  me,  he  spoke  the  call  of  the  heart  of  Palestine  and 
Syria:  "We  no  want  our  Religion  man;  we  want 
America  Religion  man.  Our  Religion  man  tell  us  to 
hate  one  another :  America  Religion  man  tell  us  God 
is  our  Father  and  we  are  brothers  and  must  love  one 


TRAVELS   IN  THE   OLD   WORLD  259 

another.     America  help  weak  and  suffering.     We 
want  America." 

If  the  Church  of  Christ  in  America  hears  this  call 
and  answers  it,  we  can  lift  up  this  stricken  land 
from  which  came  all  our  hope,  and  bring  those  peo- 
ple into  the  heritage  that  is  ours.  Then  the  Master, 
who  spoke  all  our  words  of  life  in  that  land,  will  say 
what  once  he  said  over  there,  "Inasmuch  as  ye  have 
done  it  unto  one  of  the  least  of  these  my  brethren,  ye 
have  done  it  unto  me."  Failing  in  this,  what  will 
He  say? 


CHAPTER  XX. 
MOTORING   OVER   HOLY    HILLS. 

(1921) 

We  were  happy  to  sight  land  and  to  know  the 
end  of  our  journey  was  near.  For  three  weeks 
the  ship  had  been  our  home  and  we  were  land  hun- 
gry. We  sailed  along  the  course  Columbus  sailed 
over  the  trackless,  uncharted  seas,  looking  for  land. 
Some  man  spoke  up  and  called  him  the  greatest 
far-seeing  prophet  of  the  century  but  as  I  thought 
over  it  all,  he  seemed  to  be  the  greatest  Nut  to  try 
a  trick  like  that. 

The  Syrian  hills  gave  us  a  welcome  as  they 
stood  there  in  the  twilight  glow  as  our  ship  dropt 
anchor  and  we  faced  the  rabble  and  the  scramble 
that  comes  when  you  disembark  in  an  Eastern  port. 
There  is  nothing  like  it  in  the  world.  You  hear 
the  shouting  and  see  the  commotion  long  months 
after  it  is  over. 

I  found  George  Jallouk  our  trusted  dragoman  of 
the  past  and  we  were  soon  in  his  boat  pushing  for 
the  shore.  The  war  told  on  George  and  he  bore 
the  marks  of  hardship.  True  gentleman,  good 
friend,  the  best  guide,  is  George  Jallouk.  He  took 
us  to  the  hotel,  which  we  found  to  be  a  delight  sit- 
ting in  its  Oriental  charm,  hard  by  the  tide  washed 
shore,  in  sight  of  the  lofty  Lebanons.  Beyrout  has 
a  charm  that  was  wonderful.  It  is  the  seat  of  the 
American  University,  one  of  the  greatest  institu- 
tions in  foreign  lands.  Here  also  is  the  place  where 
St.  George  slew  the  dragon. 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  261 

Bro.  Welch  was  wild  when  he  hit  the  ground.  He 
kicked  up  his  heels,  gave  a  snort  and  started.  In 
a  minute,  he  was  drinking  some  sort  of  home  brew 
peddled  out  by  a  street  vender,  who  sold  it  out  of 
something  that  looked  like  a  skin  of  a  yellow  dog. 
But  when  a  hill  billy  has  been  jailed  on  a  boat  for 
three  weeks,  he  will  do  most  anything. 

After  a  delightful  night,  supper  in  the  court — rest 
on  good  beds,  with  Oriental  music  and  sounds  about 
us,  we  started  toward  the  Lebanons  in  autos.  What 
an  experience!  Motoring  over  the  Holy  Hills!  We 
climbed  the  mountains  amid  scenes  wonderful  and 
fascinating  to  Baalbek  where  we  spent  the  night. 
We  found  no  place  more  charming.  The  finest  fruits 
and  the  grand  old  ruins,  and  a  homelike  hotel  with 
rooms  opening  into  the  Court  where  we  ate.  We 
had  a  table  to  ourselves,  thanked  God  for  our  food, 
as  we  always  did,  and  had  a  good  time. 

I  was  retiring  when  there  came  a  knock  at  my 
door.  The  proprietor  was  there  saying  a  Moham- 
medan woman  wanted  to  see  me.  I  found  in  the 
Court  a  spooky  figure,  heavily  draped  in  dirty  black. 
I  could  see  neither  nose,  finger,  ear  or  toe.  I  sup- 
posed it  was  a  woman.  I  asked  the  proprietor  to 
ask  what  she  wanted.  She  said  a  member  of  our 
party  came  to  her  home  in  the  afternoon  entered 
the  yard  where  she  was  baking  bread  and  ate  some 
with  her.  When  he  departed  he  invited  her  to  the 
hotel  to  see  us  that  night  and  she  was  here.  I  asked 
her  to  describe  him  and  she  indicated  he  was  a  long 
tall  gentleman  for  she  stretched  her  hands  up  and 
down  as  far  apart  as  she  could.     I  knew  at  once 


262  TRAVELS   IN    THE   OLD   WORLD 

Welch  was  the  culprit  and  called  him  forth  to  face 
the  music  and  receive  his  Mohammedan  lady  caller. 

The  preacher  was  informed  he  had  committed  a 
grave  offense  in  entering  the  private  quarters  of  a 
Mohammedan  woman  and  in  the  eyes  of  her  tribes- 
men, it  might  be  considered  cause  for  mobbing  us. 
Such  things  had  led  to  war  and  massacre.  We  were 
pictured  held  as  prisoners  by  superstitious  moslems 
until  our  country  could  discuss  our  case  in  Congress 
and  come  to  our  relief  if  we  were  not  killed  before 
help  could  reach  us.  And  to  eat  bread  with  a  per- 
son forever  binds  you  to  them  by  the  law  of  friend- 
ship in  the  East.  Whatever  they  demanded  after 
that,  must  be  done. 

The  preacher  was  pale  and  looked  like  he  was 
listening  to  the  bishop  read  his  appointment.  At 
last  I  suggested  to  him  a  good  gift  of  back-shish 
might  mend  matters  and  he  gladly  emptied  his  sur- 
plus change  in  the  hand  of  the  black-robed  black- 
mailer, who  went  away  satisfied.  Welch  drew  a  sigh 
of  relief  when  we  got  out  of  that  town  without  any 
aftermath. 

We  left  Baalbek  for  Damascus  early  in  the  morn- 
ing and  rode  swiftly  down  the  rich  and  historic  Baca 
Valley.  We  expected  to  reach  this  oldest  city  of  the 
world  ere  noon  rolled  in.  But  alas  the  plans  of 
mice  and  men  got  oft  awry  when  you  figure  on  cats 
and  cars.  I  have  never  been  in  love  with  gasoline. 
I  detest  the  way  it  smells  and  the  way  it  sells. 
Motoring  over  the  ancient  caravan  paths  of  the  East 
upsetting  the  equilibrium  of  stately  camels,  kingly 
billy-goats  and  demure  asses  is  out  of  place.     It 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD  WORLD  263 

seems  sacriligious  to  see  Fords  hooting  and  tooting 
along  the  roads  where  Rebecca  leaped  from  her 
camel  to  meet  the  timid  Isaac.  I  have  never  known 
why  Isaac  wept.  Perhaps  because  he  was  afraid 
she  would  break  her  neck  in  her  haste  to  meet  him 
or  maybe  because  he  knew  he  was  caught  at  last. 
But  I  have  missed  the  path  in  the  Ford. 

We  started  buoyant  and  full  of  life  with  spirits 
keen  and  faces  clean.  We  didn't  get  there  that  way. 
All  went  well  until  it  didn't.  There  was  an  explosion 
of  air — and  Arabic.  The  car  stopped  and  the  Arabs 
got  out.  One  fellow  with  a  fez  and  big  pants  raised 
the  flap  and  looked  in  Mr.  Ford's  right  lung,  while 
another  took  the  blood  pressure.  A  number  of  loaf- 
ers nearby  came  up,  looked  on  and  said  things.  One 
said  "mofish  benzine",  which  meant,  "are  you 
out  of  gasoline."    We  were! 

I  have  never  seen  anything  more  impressive  than 
these  Arabs,  driving  Fords  over  these  Syrian  hills, 
snorting,  staving  thru  caravans  of  loaded  camels, 
droves  of  plodding  donkeys  and  hundreds  of  sheep 
and  goats.  I  have  never  seen  anything  more  thrill 
ing  and  exciting.  They  did  not  slacken  speed  or 
give  quarter.  With  a  hoot  and  a  toot,  they  went 
straight  on  into  the  solid  mass  of  animals,  men  and 
cargo,  leaving  them  to  get  out  of  the  way  or  take 
the  result.  I  shut  my  eyes  and  stopped  my  ears 
to  keep  out  the  tragedy.  Such  excitement  among 
goats,  camels,  sheep  and  shepherds,  I  have  never 
seen.  Billy-goats  and  slow  donkeys  climbed  up 
banks;  loaded  camels  leaped  from  the  road  falling* 
down  and  bellowing,  while  the  men  said  things.     I 


204  TRAVELS  IN   THE   OLD  WORLD 

expected  to  be  shot  and  mobbed  but  they  seemed  to 
think  we  had  right  of  way. 

We  made  the  trip  without  accident  save  several 
times  turning  animals  around  and  starting  them 
back  the  other  way  and  bringing  with  us  hair  and 
wool  on  our  fenders  for  souvenirs.  My,  I  wish  I 
could  have  been  in  the  first  auto  that  went  thru 
that  country! 

The  camel  and  ass  resent  the  coming  of  the  auto. 
It  upsets  their  oriental  poise.  The  billy-goat  also 
shows  his  contempt.  They  protest  at  being  upset 
and  driven  from  the  caravan  paths  their  sires  have 
gone  with  stately  tread  for  centuries.  But  the  auto 
seems  there  to  stay.  Where  ancient  priests  burnt 
incense  in  the  Ark  of  the  Covenant,  they  now  burn 
gasoline  in  Fords.  The  Shah  of  Persia  is  dicker- 
ing for  a  Ford  and  will  rig  it  up  with  Oriental 
splendor.  King  Fiesal  already  has  his.  Sheiks  and 
shepherds  are  after  them  as  the  East  and  the  West 
are  meeting  together. 

Who  would  ever  tire  of  Damascus?  Not  if  you 
are  interested  in  folks  with  eternal  variety  and  sur- 
passing mixture.  We  had  two  extra  days  and  we 
spent  them  in  Damascus.  I  am  sure  no  one  was 
sorry.  Our  Hotel,  the  Damascus  Palace,  was  in 
the  heart  of  things.  A  Mohammedan  Mosque  was 
on  each  side  of  the  hotel.  One  minaret  rose  hardby 
the  window  where  Rev.  A.  L.  Stanford  slept.  Five 
times  a  day  the  Muezzin  climbed  up  there  and  gave 
forth  his  weird  call  to  prayer.  Stanford  gets  his 
best  sleep  at  the  very  time  the  Mohammedan  sends 
forth  their  first  morning  call,  as  it  penetrates  and 


TRAVELS   IN  THE  OLD  WORLD  265 

shivers  over  the  world.  This  Presiding  Elder  had 
a  voice  like  a  Bishop  and  he  stood  in  ten  feet  of 
Stanford's  bed.  Now  Stanford  is  a  fine  fellow  and 
splendid  preacher  but  he  does  not  like  some  things. 
What  he  thinks  of  Muezzins  who  bawl  at  4 :30  A.  M. 
and  of  Samaritans  in  Shechen  is  not  at  all  in  keep- 
ing with  the  General  Rules.  There  was  nothing  on 
the  whole  tour  richer  than  the  way  these  two  divines 
Rt.  Rev.  Muezzin  and  Rev.  A.  L.  Stanford  exchanged 
glances  and  compliments  at  the  time  of  morning 
and  evening  prayers.  Stanford  did  not  appreciate 
the  rare  privilege  of  having  a  minaret  at  your  win- 
dow and  a  private  priest  to  tell  you  when  to  get 
up  and  say  your  prayers. 

All  about  us  were  the  bazaars.  They  are  the  joy  of 
a  woman's  heart  and  the  sorrow  of  a  man's  pocket 
book.  The  merchants  sit  on  the  floor  on  their 
feet  in  Eastern  style  with  a  great  display  of  goods 
about  them.  It  seems  impossible  to  pack  so  much 
stuff  in  such  a  compass.  A  store  the  size  of  a  state- 
room will  be  a  regular  department  store.  There 
seems  to  be  no  end  to  the  articles  both  in  quality 
and  quantity.  One  man  usually  sells  one  thing  but 
you  never  know  what  the  man  next  door  will  have. 
The  finest  silks  will  be  hardby  a  store  full  of  stink- 
ing cheese  that  must  have  been  old  when  Nero  fiddled 
over  Rome.  Saddles  and  brass,  macaroni  and  wine, 
rugs  and  rags  and  everything  in  endless  array  and 
display  are  before  you.  No  man  could  describe  it. 
To  trade  with  these  fellows  is  rare  past  time  and  if 
you  know  how  to  do  it,  you  can  carry  good  bar- 
gains home. 


266  TRAVELS   IN    THE   OLD   WORLD 

One  of  the  most  interesting  experiences  in  this 
city  was  buying  some  Persian  rugs  from  a  rug  deal- 
er. Four  of  us  desired  to  take  such  rare  trophies 
home  to  our  wives  and  we  set  out  to  buy  them. 
We  found  a  boy,  who  was  a  good  interpreter  and 
located  the  rugs  we  wanted.  It  takes  much  dicker- 
ing to  drive  a  bargain.  The  rugs  we  selected  were 
gems  and  rare  and  costly  at  home.  He  wanted 
$80.00,  each  of  them.  We  offered  him  $25.00.  He 
became  incensed,  put  them  up,  spat,  stamped  and 
laughed.  For  a  part  of  the  two  days,  the  trade  was 
in  soak.  He  came  down  to  $40.00,  and  we  stuck  to 
our  first  offer.  It  seemed  our  bargain  was  doomed, 
but  I  felt  in  the  last  test  he  would  fall.  We  got 
what  he  c- aimed  by  his  Holy  Shrines  was  his  last 
and  lowest  price,  and  we  departed  to  another  rug 
man  nearby.  We  selected  some  from  his  lot  and 
started  a  deal  when  the  first  man  came  to  us  and 
whispered,  he  would  take  our  price. 

We  left  Damascus  early  in  the  morning.  Our  host 
was  at  the  station,  telling  us  goodbye.  The  train 
went  out  on  the  rich  fields  and  plains,  passing  thou- 
sands of  camels,  donkeys,  sheep  and  goats.  I  never 
saw  so  many  in  one  day.  They  were  grazing  on  the 
plains  after  the  crops  were  harvested.  The  owners 
are  not  too  friendly  and  great  care  must  be  used  in 
dealing  with  them.  When  an  animal  got  on  the 
track,  the  engineer  stopped  with  all  haste,  almost 
throwing  us  on  our  heads,  but  this  was  better  than 
hurting  a  billy-goat.  The  car  of  the  Governor  was 
fired  on  some  davs  before  and  the  bridge  over  the 
Yarmouth  near  Galilee  had  been  burned  down.  This 


TRAVELS    IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  267 

was  the  nearest  to  a  danger  zone  we  had  come  but 
we  went  thru  to  Lake  Galilee  without  trouble. 

We  visited  Jericho,  the  Dead  Sea  and  the  Jordan 
in  autos  this  time  in  order  to  hurry  out  of  the  heated 
zone  back  to  the  good  air  of  Jerusalem.  Of  course, 
we  took  a  bath  in  the  Dead  Sea.  Everything  was 
progressing  well,  when  we  heard  a  pitiable  wail  and 
a  loud  call  for  help.  Bro.  Welch  had  drifted  far 
from  the  shore  and  said  he  was  caught  in  a  current 
that  was  swiftly  bearing  him  to  the  Moab  shore. 
I  pictured  the  sad  sight  of  the  poor  fellow,  being 
beaten  and  held  a  prisoner  in  his  present  plight  until 
we  could  form  a  rescue  party  and  go  after  him,  tak- 
in  sufficient  dry  goods  and  notions  to  induct  him 
again  into  civilization. 

Frank  McKenny  went  swimming  to  his  rescue, 
but  made  the  sad  mistake  of  approaching  f  ootwards 
rather  than  headwards.  His  long  feet  were  churn- 
ing the  water  like  the  old-mill  wheels  and  he  was 
kicking  like  the  mule  Maud.  He  beat  Frank 
under  the  water  and  pounded  him  without  mercy, 
and  to  have  your  head  put  under  the  Dead  Sea 
water  is  not  as  pleasant  as  eating  Charlotte  Russe 
But  Frank  flanked  him  and  hove  him  in.  He  went 
swimming  with  his  burden  up  in  front  of  an  Arab 
hut  when  all  the  inmates  came  forth  in  loud  and 
explosive  protest.  They  didn't  propose  to  be  dis- 
graced by  having  any  such  derelict  wreck  drift  up 
at  their  front  door. 

This  second  visit  to  the  Holy  Hills  was  greater 
to  me  than  the  first.  It  was  a  great  privilege  to 
stand  on  these  Holy  places  where  the  Bible  stories 


268  TRAVELS  IN   THE  OLD  WORLD 

and  truths  were  born  and  read  the  record  from  the 
book.  Every  morning  when  the  day  was  dawning, 
I  stole  forth  with  my  Bible.  One  morning,  I  sat  on 
a  rock  half  way  between  Jerusalem  and  Bethlehem, 
and  as  I  read,  I  tried  to  picture  the  scenes.  I  saw 
the  Wise  Men  following  the  Star  to  the  manger  in 
Bethlehem.  I  saw  Solomon  ride  his  royal  chariots, 
and  David  lead  his  army  down  that  road.  There 
Rachel,  whom  Jacob  loved,  drifted  out  into  the 
other  world  as  little  Benjamin  came  into  this  one. 
I  heard  the  angel  choirs  sing  on  the  plains  while  a 
lost  earth  listened  to  the  first  Christmas  Carol.  I 
looked  back  at  the  Holy  City,  sitting  on  the  hill  in 
the  glow  of  the  rising  sun  and  as  I  read  of  her  past 
glories,  I  could  see  the  pictures  before  me. 

Then  I  looked  behind  me  far  over  into  the  deso- 
late solitudes  of  the  Judean  Wilderness  while  I  read 
of  David  fleeing  from  Saul.  Here  he  was  hunted, 
hiding  alone  away  from  home  and  friends,  but  he 
was  not  alone  nor  discouraged.  God  was  with  him 
and  while  in  the  lonely  wilderness,  he  gave  us  some 
of  our  sweetest  music.  It  was  down  here  one  night 
all  alone,  he  looked  into  the  shining  stars  of  that 
Syrian  sky  and  tuned  his  sharp  to  sing,  "The  Heav- 
ens declare  the  Glory  of  God  and  the  firmament 
showeth  His  handiwork.  Day  unto  day  uttered 
speech  and  night  unto  night  showeth  knowledge. 
There  is  no  speech  where  their  voice  is  not  heard." 
And  down  here  all  alone,  and  hunted  by  his  enemies, 
he  burst  forth  into  glorious  song,  and  striking  the 
chords  of  his  harp,  he  gave  the  world  its  greatest 
gem  of  literature — the  Twenty-Third  Psalm.     To 


TRAVELS   IN  THE  OLD  WORLD  262 

sit  here  and  read  these  two  Psalms  is  worth  the 
trip  over  the  ocean. 

The  next  morning  by  sunrise,  I  stood  at  the  foot 
of  Calvary,  reading  the  account  of  the  crucifixion 
as  I  looked  upon  that  skull  shaped  hill  outside  of 
the  city  wall.  Then  I  followed  the  venturesome  Dr. 
Squires  in  an  adventure  few  people  have  ever  ac- 
complished. We  climbed  the  steep  slopes  of  Cal- 
vary and  stood  with  bared  heads  and  solemn  hearts 
on  the  spot  where  the  cross  was  raised  when  the 
Lord  was  crucified  to  save  the  world.  Here  was  the 
very  spot  where  his  blood  ran  out  on  the  ground.  It 
was  easy  to  picture  the  scene  of  the  disciples  and 
the  multitudes  on  the  surrounding  slopes,  watching 
the  greatest  sacrifice  ever  made  in  the  history  of 
the  world.  I  have  never  experienced  anything  like 
that  visit  to  Calvary  and  I  came  down  almost  over- 
come, humming, 

"There  is  a  Fountain  filled  with  blood, 
Drawn  from  ImmanuePs  veins, 
And  sinners  plunged  beneath  that  flood, 
Lose  all  their  guilty  stain." 

On  top  of  Mt.  Calvary  we  saw  a  strange  and 
gruesome  relic  of  a  brutal  battle  lost.  It  was  an 
old  rusty  German  cannon  made  in  the  Krupp  fac- 
tory in  Germany.  The  Turks  have  always  had  a 
superstitious  reverance  for  Calvary  and  would  not 
let  others  tread  on  its  ground.  But  when  their 
German  comrades  came  to  the  defence  of  the  Holy 
City,  they  who  had  no  respect  for  sacred  treaties 


270  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

and  life  and  virture  of  course  had  no  reverance  for 
Calvary.  So  they  fortified  Mount  Calvary  with  their 
guns.  The  Turks  were  driven  out  and  the  Huns 
fell  but  in  the  retreat  this  relic  was  left,  where  it 
stands  and  rusts,  a  strange  reminder  of  the  brutality 
and  barbarism  of  Prusianism  defeated  and  corod- 
ing  away  on  the  very  spot  where  the  blood  of  Jesus 
ran  out  to  save  a  lost  world.  The  Prince  of  Peace 
has  triumphed  over  Prusianism. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

STORY   OF  THE  LOST   BIBLE. 

On  July  16,  1914,  I  visited  Cana  in  Galilee.  About 
the  village  fountain  the  natives  were  gathered 
watching  us.  Leaving  our  carriage  we  visited  the 
spot  pointed  out  as  the  place  where  the  Saviour  per- 
formed His  first  miracle,  when  at  the  wedding  "the 
water  saw  its  Lord  and  blushed." 

When  we  returned  to  the  carriages  my  Bible, 
which  I  had  left  on  the  seat,  was  gone.  My  heart 
was  sad,  for  I  loved  this  Book  of  mine.  With  it  in 
my  hand  I  had  walked  the  Holy  Hills,  reading  from 
the  Divine  record  what  transpired  upon  the  very 
place  before  my  eyes.  It  was  one  of  the  greatest 
blessings  of  my  life.  I  had  made  valuable  notes  in 
the  margin  which  I  felt  would  be  of  untold  value 
when  I  got  home.  Then  the  Bible  was  a  much  prized 
gift  from  dear  friends,  and  through  many  months 
had  been  my  constant  companion  of  comfort  and 
cheer. 

Of  course  I  felt  some  little  Turk  had  stolen  it 
and  I  would  never  hear  of  it  again.  With  a  sad 
heart  I  proceeded  over  the  hills  the  Master  traveled, 
on  by  the  Horns  of  Hattin  down  to  the  blue  waters 
of  Galilee. 

On  March  1st,  1920,  when  the  mail-man  handed 
in  my  mail  my  eye  fell  on  a  strange  foreign  look- 
ing envelope.  I  saw  it  was  a  Turkish  stamp  and 
was  posted  in  Nazareth,  Palestine.  I  eagerly  opened 
it  and  read: 


272  TRAVELS  IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

"Kerf-Cana,  Galilee,  Palestine,  January  8,  1920. 
To  the  Pastor  of  Thomas  Chapel, 

Cartersville,  Va. 
Dear  sir: — 

On  September  26,  1914,  I  bought  from  a  Turk 
who  happened  to  pass,  an  English  Bible,  in  which  is 
the  following  inscription,  "Presented  to  Jos.  M. 
Rowland  of  the  Virginia  Conference  by  the  Sunday 
School  of  Thomas'  Chapel,  Cartersville,  Va.,  Christ- 
mas, 1906." 

Owing  to  the  world's  war  I  was  unable  to  write 
and  if  the  above  mentioned  Mr.  Rowland  is  still  liv- 
ing and  desires  his  Bible  I  will  be  glad  to  return  it 
to  him,  if  you  will  kindly  get  in  touch  with  him, 
if  he  has  changed  his  address. 
Awaiting  his  instructions  and  reply,  I  am 
Yours  truly, 
MISS  MONEERA  F.  SAFFROURY." 

My  heart  was  thrilled  with  this  message  from  far 
off  Galilee.  Who  was  this  person  who  had  bought 
my  Bible  and  kept  it  as  a  sacred  trust  to  return  to 
me,  while  for  nearly  six  years  war  and  famine  swept 
about  her  and  her  people?  I  was  strongly  impressed 
with  the  feeling  that  God  was  bringing  in  this  pecu- 
liar way  our  two  lives  together.  Far  off  yonder 
in  that  little  village  where  Jesus  attended  the  wed- 
ding with  his  mother,  lived  a  woman  or  girl  who 
held  my  Bible  for  over  five  years  waiting  to  send 
it  to  me.  I  wondered  who  she  was  living  there  in 
the  land  I  loved.  Was  she  a  girl  or  an  old  woman? 
Was  she  a  Jew,  Catholic  or  Mohammedan?  Per- 
haps she  was  a  mission  teacher  there. 


TRAVELS   IN  THE  OLD  WORLD  273 

I  wrote  her  at  once,  enclosing  a  check  for  $10.00 
as  a  gift  in  appreciation  of  her  fidelity.  I  requested 
her  to  write  me  about  herself,  her  people  and  her 
land,  giving  any  information  she  liked  about  condi- 
tions there  and  how  they  fared  during  the  war  and 
since.  I  told  her  we  were  greatly  interested  in  the 
land  and  people  there.  I  asked  if  she  was  a  Chris- 
tian and  connected  with  the  mission  in  Nazareth. 
I  gave  opportunity  for  her  to  trust  me  as  a  friend 
and  confide  in  me  as  such. 

On  May  25th,  1920,  I  received  an  answer  posted 
in  Jerusalem  and  dated  April  4th.  It  reads  as  fol- 
lows: 

"Dear  Sir:— 

Ever  so  many  thanks  for  your  kind  gift  enclosed 
with  your  most  interesting  letter  received  yeserday. 
I  am  a  young  girl  of  17,  born  and  brought  up  in 
the  village  of  Cana.  My  parents  sent  me  to  school 
in  a  town  called  Safel,  beyond  Tiberias.  There  I 
stayed  three  years  where  I  learned  English.  When 
the  war  broke  out  the  school  had  to  be  closed  as  it 
was  English  and  I  had  to  go  back  to  Cana.  You  can- 
not imagine  how  sad  I  was  to  leave.  I  had  to  go 
back  to  Cana  and  stay  all  during  the  war. 

It  was  a  very  miserable  life  we  had  to  go  through. 
I  have  one  sister,  two  years  older  and  a  brother 
four  years  younger.  My  sister  was  also  in  school  with 
me,  and  both  of  us  had  to  stay  together  at  my 
parents.  Our  little  family  is  the  only  Protestant 
one  in  Cana  connected  with  the  C.  M.  S.  at  Nazareth 
(a  mission  of  the  Episcopal  church  of  Enland.) 


274  TRAVELS  IN   THE   OLD  WORLD 

There  is  a  very  kind  Syrian  minister  at  Nazareth 
who  used  to  come  to  Cana  for  a  service  and  give 
us  communion  during  the  war.  He  had  to  come 
walking  every  time  as  no  cars  or  horses  could  be 
found,  as  the  Government  took  them  all.  Sister 
and  I  were  not  confirmed  and  did  not  take  the  com- 
munion. As  soon  as  the  war  was  over  the  Bishop 
of  Jerusalem  came  to  Nazareth  and  confirmed  a 
number  of  boys  and  girls  with  whom  we  were  also 
confirmed. 

You  wish  me  to  relate  about  the  war,  through 
which  we  had  to  go.  It  was  a  very  miserable  time 
under  the  Turkish  tyranny  that  I  don't  like  to  rem- 
ember it  again.  My  father  who  was  about  fifty  years 
old,  was  obliged  to  serve  as  a  Turkish  soldier.  The 
first  and  second  year  they  accepted  fifty  pounds 
(equal  to  about  $200)  for  any  who  wished  to  pay 
instead  of  a  year's  service.  So  my  father  paid  one 
hundred  pounds  for  the  two  years.  The  third  year 
they  would  not  accept  any  money  and  forced  every 
man  to  join  the  army.    My  father  had  to  go  then. 

Every  thing  was  dear  and  scarcely  found.  We 
spent  all  our  money  during  that  dreadful  war.  I 
do  thank  God  it  is  over  now  and  hope  we  will  have 
a  better  time  now  under  the  British  rule,  though 
things  are  still  dear  as  before.  I  cannot  tell  you  how 
great  was  our  joy  to  see  the  British  army.  It  was 
on  October  20th  when  they  came  to  Cana.  You 
would  have  heard  about  all  that  in  the  newspapers. 

The  first  Enlish  Military  Governor  of  Nazareth 
was  a  very  kind  one.  He  gave  my  sister  work  as 
a  teacher  at  Cana  for  5  pounds  a  month  (equal  to 


;  TRAVELS  IN  THE  OLD  WORLD  275 

about  $20).  Of  course  the  fee  was  very  bad  but 
it  was  the  only  work  she  could  get.  The  English 
mistress  of  our  school  at  Safel  came  to  Jerusalem 
to  teach  in  the  British  High  School.  She  wrote  and 
asked  if  I  would  go  there  to  finish  my  schooling, 
as  it  is  the  highest  school  in  all  Palestine.  Sorry 
to  say  I  couldn't  as  the  fees  were  too  much  and  we 
had  no  money.  My  sister  saved  money  until  she  got 
enough  for  half  a  year  fees  for  the  school  and  sent 
me.  I  have  been  here  two  months.  Examinations 
were  held  March  14th.  I  was  so  pleased,  I  passed 
it  all. 

After  that  we  had  Easter  Holiday  for  a  fortnight. 
The  first  week  we  spent  very  nice  with  walks  and 
so  on.  The  first  day  all  the  girls  went  out  for  a 
long  walk  to  the  Tombs  of  the  Judges,  which  no 
doubt  you  would  have  visited  when  you  came  to 
Jerusalem.  On  March  31st  in  the  evening  the  Lord's 
Supper  was  served  as  usual  at  the  Arabic  Church 
and  all  the  big  girls  which  were  confirmed  went 
with  the  school  mistress  to  take  it.  I  was,  of  course, 
one  of  them. 

After  it  was  over  we  went  on  a  long  walk  in 
the  beautiful  moonlight  to  Gethsemane.  A  lovely 
sermon  was  preached  there  that  made  all  the  people 
drop  tears.  We  sang  several  hymns  also  of  which 
"Jesus  Lover,"  was  one.  I  can't  tell  you  what  strong 
feelings  I  had  to  think  I  was  in  the  same  place  where 
my  Lord  spent  that  terrible  eve  of  agony  for  my 
sake. 

Yes,  I  count  myself  lucky  to  be  in  the  land  where 
Christ  lived.    I  sincerely  hope  you  will  come  next 


276  TRAVELS  IN   THE  OLD  WORLD 

year  and  I  will  be  most  delighted  to  see  and  meet 
such  a  gentle  and  nice  friend  as  you  are. 

Well,  to  finish  about  the  news  of  Jerusalem.  The 
next  week  of  our  holiday  we  spent  very  bad  as  a 
great  trouble  arose  between  Moslems  and  Jews,  and 
even  a  fight.  Lots  of  them  were  killed  on  both 
sides.  Thank  God  it  did  not  last  long  for  many 
soldiers  were  brought  and  scattered  here  and  there 
and  airplanes  stayed  two  days  hovering  down  the 
town  to  see  that  was  right. 

Now  I  have  written  a  too  long  letter  and  told 
you  all  about  myself  and  people.  Sorry  I  haven't 
any  of  my  photos  here  but  will  promise  that  as  soon 
as  I  get  one  from  home  will  post  it  to  you.  I  will 
soon  be  going  back  to  Cana  for  the  long  holidays 
so  you  better  answer  me  if  you  like  at  my  address 
there  as  you  did  the  first  time. 

I  wonder  if  I  will  be  able  to  come  back  here  next 
year  to  finish  my  schooling  to  learn  typing,  shorthand 
and  French.  I  do  not  know  if  I  can  get  money 
enough.  Of  course  I  will  keep  the  money  you  sent 
me  and  see  if  I  can  get  any  more — enuogh  for  it. 
I  do  thank  you  heartily  for  it.  I  trust  God  will 
manage  as  He  did  this  year.  I  wish  I  could  find 
somebody  who  would  pay  for  me  and  as  soon  as  I 
finish  my  education  and  get  work  will  pay  him  back. 
I  wish  you  could  help  me,  Sir. 

I  am  enclosing  you  here  a  frame  of  my  needle- 
work lace  which  I  trust  would  be  interesting  to 
keep  as  souvenir  of  Palestine.  I  will  write  and  tell 
my  sister  to  post  you  your  Bible  as  I  left  it  at  home 
at  Cana.    I  will  come  to  the  end  of  my  long  story, 


TRAVELS  IN  THE  OLD  WORLD  277 

wishing  you  all  the  joy  of  this  world  and  the  best 
of  luck. 

Thanking  you  again  for  your  kind  gift,  I  remain, 
Yours  Sincerely, 
MONEERA  F.  SAFFOURY." 
and  then,  true  woman  that  she  is  she  adds  a 

P.  S.    I  bought  your  Bible  from  a  Mohammedan, 
as  you  will  see  written  on  it  when  you  get  it. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

DINING  IN  GALILEE. 

In  my  second  visit  to  Palestine  in  1921,  I  looked 
forward  with  keen  anticipation  to  a  visit  to  the 
home  of  some  friends  in  little  Cana  of  Gallee. 

It  was  the  home  of  Moneera  Saffoury,  the  little 
girl  who  recovered  my  stolen  Bible  in  1914.  She 
bought  the  book  from  a  Turk,  who  stole  it  from 
the  carriage.  She  kept  it  until  the  war  was  over 
and  she  could  send  it  to  me.  This  started  a  corres- 
pendence  that  led  me  with  the  assistance  of  friends 
to  undertake  the  education  of  Moneera,  who  has 
a  passion  and  a  call  for  mission  work  in  this  land 
from  which  our  Gospel  comes.  She  believes  the  beau- 
tiful story  I  have  already  published  about  it  is  the 
working  of  our  Father's  hand  bringing  friends  to 
her  in  answer  to  her  many  prayers,  and  she  believes 
it  no  more  than  the  one  who  writes  the  story. 

When  I  found  I  was  coming  again  to  Palestine 
I  wrote  Moneera  I  would  certainly  visit  her  home 
as  I  passed  through  Cana.  She  answered  at  once, 
extending  a  warm  invitation  with  all  the  warm 
Oriental  hospitality,  seconded  by  all  the  members 
of  the  family.  I  must  come  and  bring  all  members 
of  the  party  and  we  must  not  spend  a  few  minutes 
but  stay  at  least  a  day  and  a  night.  This  stirred 
my  heart,  for  I  longed  for  such  a  visit  as  this,  and 
having  never  dined  in  an  Eastern  private  home,  I 
longed  for  the  time  to  come.  The  providential  man- 
ner of  our  acquaintance  and  the  interest  I  had  in 


TRAVELS  IN   THE   OLD  WORLD  279 

the  future  of  this  girl  added  to  the  interest  of  this 
looked-for  visit. 

It  was  in  the  early  morning  light  of  July  28 
when  our  carriage  climbed  the  hills  from  the  hotel 
on  the  shore  of  Lake  Galilee.  How  powerless  is 
the  hand  of  man  to  write  of  the  glories  of  these 
hills  as  the  light  of  a  new  day  shone  on  them.  We 
looked  down  on  the  historic  waters  and  the  shores 
on  which  moved  so  much  of  the  gospel  life,  and 
tried  to  see  the  pictures  as  they  were  in  the  days 
of  Jesus.  We  paused  at  the  Horns  of  Hattin  long 
enough  to  read  the  sermon  on  the  Mount,  where  it 
was  preached.  Then  over  a  good  road  being  built 
by  the  Jewish  immigrants,  we  jogged  at  a  good 
rate  in  sight  of  Mount  Tabor  around  to  the  edge 
of  little  Cana. 

The  folks  had  been  looking  for  us  for  two  days. 
I  had  to  change  our  plans  in  Damascus,  and  could 
not  advise  them  we  would  be  two  days  late.  All 
their  hearts  were  beating  with  the  highest  anxiety 
as  they  put  the  big  pot  in  the  little  one,  dressed  a 
kid  and  watched  down  the  road  toward  the  lake 
for  a  cloud  of  dust  that  would  herald  our  coming. 
Of  course,  it  is  not  good  to  keep  ladies  waiting  a 
meal  two  minutes,  not  to  say  for  two  days.  As 
anxious  as  they  were,  they  could  not  have  been 
ahead  of  me  very  much,  for  in  all  my  life  they  have 
not  had  to  do  much  waiting  when  they  wanted 
eating  done.  I  am  there  waiting.  But'  to  keep 
these  folks  waiting  and  wondering  for  two  days 
must  have  been  hard  on  them. 

At  last  our  carriage  swung  around  a  hill  into  a 


280  TRAVELS  IN  THE  OLD  WORLD 

grove  of  figs  and  olives,  and  we  were  in  the  gates  of 
Cana.  Here  a  great  surprise  awaited  me,  for  the 
girls  had  published  to  the  inhabitants  that  distin- 
guished visitors  were  coming,  and  a  large  number 
of  folks  turned  out  to  greet  us.  As  I  alighted  from 
my  carriage,  trying  to  catch  the  manner  of  Oriental 
salutation  and  tell  the  folks  how  glad  I  was  to  come 
to  town,  I  felt  the  governor,  when  he  came,  had 
nothing  on  me. 

After  bowing  and  scraping  and  going  through 
other  bodily  forms  of  greetings,  I  located  Moneera 
(from  her  photo)  as  she  stood  almost  breathless 
with  excitement  and  timidity  among  the  folks.  I 
took  her  hand  and  bringing  her  forth  presented  her 
to  the  members  of  our  party.  She  led  the  way  down 
the  little  street  to  their  home.  We  saw  the  church 
on  the  supposed  site  of  the  Master's  first  miracle- 
and  I  was  thinking  as  we  walked  that  somewhere 
nearby  Nathaniel  sat  under  the  fig  tree  when  Jesus 
called  him  out  into  the  light  and  called  him  the  guile- 
less one. 

The  Saffoury  home  from  without  looked  like  the 
typical  Oriental  home.  It  was  built  of  dingy  lime- 
stone, with  flat  roof,  and  walled  about.  But  when 
we  crossed  the  threshold,  looked  on  the  interior  and 
saw  what  marvels  the  tender  touch  of  woman's 
hands  can  do  for  the  inside  of  things,  our  hearts 
were  warmed.  For  a  month  we  had  not  seen  inside 
of  a  home,  and  we  felt  a  thrill  at  seeing  this  one. 
We  felt  like  giving  three  sheers  for  woman  and" 
joining  in  the  toast  of  old,  "Woman,  God  bless  her, 
we  can't  get  along  without  her,  and  we  can't  get 


TRAVELS  IN  THE  OLD  WORLD  281 

along  with  her."  But  we  do  not  want  to  be  where 
her  refining  soul  and  tender  touch  comes  not. 

It  was  a  cozy,  cheerful  home,  with  nice  handiwork, 
carpets  and  pictures.  Mother  Saffoury  and  Father 
Saff oury,  with  other  kindred,  including  an  old  grand- 
father, who  wore  the  prophetic  looks  of  Abraham, 
all  bowed  low,  speaking  softly  in  the  Syrian  tongue, 
their  age-long  welcome  and  sending  forth  to  God 
prayers  for  their  guests.  As  I  acknowledged  these, 
I  said,  "Peace  be  unto  this  home,"  and  I  remembered 
I  was  in  the  only  Protestant  Christian  home  in  the 
whole  village.  How  would  you  like  to  be  in  the  only 
Christian  home  in  a  village,  with  few  of  the  others 
friendly  and  sympathetic? 

We  spread  our  lunch  we  brought  from  the  hotel 
and  it  was  supplemented  by  other  things  our  good 
friends  brought.  They  had  at  my  suggestion  brought 
laces  and  things  for  us  to  buy,  and  as  we  lingered 
here,  the  time  passed  far  too  swiftly.  When  time 
came  to  go,  I  was  told  I  could  not  go.  Moneera  and 
Kareemy,  the  sister,  and  Mother  Saffoury  said  I  must 
remain  for  the  night.  It  has  always  been  hard  to 
disobey  the  word  of  women  and  I  didn't  know  what 
to  do.  We  were  to  spend  the  night  at  Nazareth, 
seven  miles  away,  and  I  must  be  there  at  5 :  30  in  the 
morning  to  see  that  the  folks  were  up,  get  breakfast 
at  6 :00  and  start  on  the  days  journey  at  6 :30.  When 
they  were  told  this,  they  did  what  woman  always 
does — they  found  a  way  out.  I  was  told  I  must  re- 
main here  the  rest  of  the  afternoon,  eat  dinner  with 
them  and  they  would  see  I  reached  Nazareth  by  bed- 
time, and  as  I  always  do,  obeyed. 


282  TRAVELS  IN   THE  OLD  WORLD 

We  saw  the  folks  in  the  carriages  at  the  village 
well  where  the  girls  were  filling  their  water  jars 
and  bearing  them  homewerd  on  their  heads,  and  as 
the  horses  trotted  up  the  road  I  turned  back  with  the 
two  girls.  We  passed  the  village  threshing  floor 
where  they  were  threshing  wheat  as  they  have  done 
for  centuries,  by  driving  cattle  over  it,  and  the  folks 
made  remarks  about  us.  Being  kin  to  women,  and 
somewhat  like  them,  I  wanted  to  know  what  they 
were  saying  about  me  and  asked  the  girls.  One 
said,  "Look  at  that  American  with  the  teacher. 
Isn't  he  handsome."  This  remark  brought  great 
comfort  to  my  heart,  and  as  night  wore  on  helped 
very  much  toward  crowning  the  ending  of  a  per- 
fect day. 

I  sat  under  a  fig  tree  with  Moneera  and  Kareeny 
and  they  asked  me  of  America,  and  spoke  with 
shining  eyes  of  their  ambition  to  live  lives  of  ser- 
vice for  God  and  His  children.  Their  tender  grati- 
tude for  what  my  friends  had  done  for  them  was  one 
of  the  most  touching  things  I  ever  saw. 

When  we  reached  the  home,  I  found  a  nice  clean 
bed  all  ready  for  me  to  take  my  afternoon  nap  or 
siesta  as  they  call  it.  A  canopy  was  drawn  over  it 
to  keep  out  the  mosquitoes.  When  the  lady,  with 
all  the  gracious  manner  of  the  East,  pointed  out  the 
bed,  I  thanked  her,  but  told  her  I  would  be  ashamed 
to  sleep  these  precious  hours  away.  I  was  here  to 
talk,  not  sleep.    I  could  sleep  any  time. 

The  old  grandfather  could  not  talk  English,  but 
the  girls  acted  as  interpreters.  He  was  a  pious  seer 
and  gave  me  more  light  on  some  points  of  the  Bible 


TRAVELS   IN   THE  OLD  WORLD  283 

land  than  all  the  commentators.  He  told  me  of  the 
persecution  of  his  people  by  the  Turks,  because  they 
were  Christians.  His  grandfather  fled  from  a  mas- 
sacre— the  only  one  who  escaped  and  settled  in  Cana. 
I  felt  like  I  was  sitting  at  the  feet  of  God's  prophet 
of  old.  When  I  left  him  with  tears  running  down 
his  white  beard,  he  leaned  on  his  staff  and  prayed 
the  blessing  of  God  to  ever  rest  on  me  and  mine,  be- 
cause of  what  I  had  been  for  them. 

When  supper  was  announced,  I  could  not  prevail 
on  the  others  to  eat  with  me.  They  seated  me  at  the 
table  and  five  women  served  me.  The  King  at  Buck- 
ingham Palace,  when  Princess  Mary  had  her  wed- 
ding supper,  didn't  beat  me  much.  We  had  seven 
courses,  and  no  better  meal  ever  faced  me.  Soup, 
chicken  and  cream  potatoes,  mutton  and  rice,  pud- 
ding, goat  clabber,  fresh  milk,  cheese,  coffee,  figs, 
grapes  and  nuts,  came  and  went  before  me  as  I  sat 
there  like  a  presiding  elder  down  in  Southampton  at 
the  third  quarterly  conference,  with  all-day  meeting 
and  dinner  on  the  ground.  What  could  make  the 
soul  of  a  Methodist  preacher  glow  like  a  meal  like 
this,  with  five  women  waiting  on  him?  In  the  house, 
at  the  door  and  windows,  crowds  of  Mohammendans 
had  come  to  watch  the  circus  with  open  eyes  and 
mouths.  It  was  the  first  time  they  ever  saw  a 
Methodist  preacher  eat  and  they  seemed  to  find  no 
fault  with  the  way  he  did  it. 

Before  our  party  left  the  home  I  read  the  second 
chapter  of  John  about  the  first  miracle  of  the  Mas- 
ter performed  nearby  and  we  prayed  together.  Then 
the  girls  recited  and  sang  for  us.  They  sang  "Galilee" 


284  TRAVELS  IN   THE   OLD  WORLD 

and  it  seemed  to  me  I  never  heard  it  sung  with  such 
heavenly  sweetness.  Then  an  impulse  seized  me  and 
I  asked  Moneera  if  she  would  not  say  a  few  words 
to  us  before  we  went.  I  wanted  her  to  tell  us  about 
finding  my  Bible  and  some  of  the  troubles  through 
which  they  passed  during  the  war.  She  began  in  a 
timid,  hesitating  way,  but  her  heart  caught  fire,  and 
her  words  seemed  to  come  from  God.  In  a  simple 
way  she  made  one  of  the  most  powerful  speeches  I 
ever  heard.  She  told  us  of  the  clouds  of  war.  Tour- 
ists ceased  to  come.  Things  were  scarce  and  high- 
One  day  a  Turkish  officer  came  and  took  their  money- 
The  father  gave  all  he  had  to  keep  out  of  the  war- 
Then  they  came  and  took  him  off.  There  he  sat,  old 
and  broken  from  the  trials  of  Turkish  trenches  and 
he  did  not  love  the  Turks  any  more  than  we  do.  Then 
an  officer  came  and  took  everything  else  they  had 
and  ordered  them  not  to  speak  English,  write  letters, 
or  receive  any.  She  had  my  Bible  and  through  those 
awful  days  they  read  it  while  they  watched  for  the 
officers.  Then  one  day  the  horrible  threat  every- 
woman  dreaded  worse  than  death  happened.  A 
Turkish  officer  told  them  tomorrow  they  would  line 
up  these  Christian  women  and  start  them  off  on  the 
long  march  of  deportation  to  Constantinople,  about 
1,000  miles  away.  Christian  women  knew  the  hor- 
rible death  and  things  far  worse  that  lay  on  this  road 
over  burning  sands,  through  torture,  starvation  and 
abuse.  Four  million  Armenians  were  driven  out  on 
this  trail  of  hades  and  their  bones  are  bleaching  in* 
the  sands.  Many  of  their  women  now  are  prisoners 
in  Turkish  harmens,  with  the  name  of  their  owners 
burned  in  their  cheeks  with  branding  irons. 


,  TRAVELS  IN  THE  OLD  WORLD  285 

With  tears  running  down  her  cheks  she  pointed 
out  a  little  room  where  she  and  her  mother  and  sister 
lay  on  the  floor  all  night  praying  to  the  God  of  all 
to  send  some  power  to  stop  this  horrible  calamity. 
They  could  not  read  my  Bible,  but  held  it  in  their 
hands  and  wet  it  with  their  tears.  The  night  wore 
on  and  the  day  dawned  as  it  always  does,  no  matter 
how  dark  the  hours  and  heavy  the  burdens.  But  the 
sunrise  brought  no  hope.  The  hours  wore  on  until 
at  last  they  heard  a  shout  and  commotion  in  the 
streets  of  Cana.  Thinking  the  officers  had  come 
earlier  than  expected,  they  looked  from  the  window 
and  flying  in  the  air  was  the  British  flag.  General 
Allenby's  army,  working  up  from  Egypt,  piping 
water  as  they  went,  had  reached  their  home  and  de- 
liverance had  come,  just  a  few  hours  before  the 
cursed  Turks  were  to  start  them  on  the  road  to  their 
awful  doom.  God  had  answered  their  prayers  and 
deliverance  had  come  to  Palestine.  Not  far  from 
there  the  British  overtook  the  Turks  and  captured 
100,000.  When  she  finished  her  story,  tears  were  in 
all  eyes  and  those  of  us  who  were  there  will  never  get 
away  from  the  influence  of  that  hour. 

That  night  I  parted  with  my  friends,  and  mounting 
a  pony  with  Father  Saffoury  and  a  neighbor  as  com- 
rades, rode  out  by  the  spring  up  the  hill  in  the  glo- 
rious starlight  of  the  East  on  the  road  to  Nazareth. 
Prophets  of  old  and  the  Savior  walked  this  road. 
The  stars  nowhere  seem  so  bright  as  here.  I  could 
not  talk  to  my  comrades.  We  did  not  know  the  same 
lip  language,  but  our  hearts  understood  what  the 
other  thought.    I  was  sorry  when  the  gleaming  lights 


286  TRAVELS  IN   THE  OLD  WORLD 

of  Nazareth  shone  before  me  and  that  wonderful  ride 
was  ended.  I  told  my  friends  good-bye  at  the  hotel 
door  and  joined  the  party  at  the  end  of  a  perfect  day. 
One  word  more  to  any  friend  who  reads  this  story, 
Moneera  is  in  school  in  Jerusalem.  She  has  made  a 
fine  record  there.  She  finishes  the  work  next  year 
at  this  British  college.  I  will  bring  her  to  this 
country  to  finish  her  preparation  for  mission  work 
in  her  home  country.  The  brother  is  also  in  school 
there.  I  am  standing  by  them.  With  what  I  can 
contribute  and  receive  from  friends,  I  have  faith  in 
God  to  believe  I  can  see  them  through.  If  any  one 
who  reads  this  feels  moved  to  have  a  part  in  this 
fine  deed,  I  will  be  glad  to  receive  the  contribution. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

IN  JERUSALEM. 

"Last  night  I  lay  a  sleeping  there  came  a  dream  so 
fair, 

I  stood  in  Old  Jerusalem  beside  the  temple  there ; 

I  heard  the  children  singing  and  ever  as  they  sang 

Me  thought  the  voice  of  angels  from  heaven  in  an- 
swer rang. 

Jerusalem!  Jerusalem! 

Lift  up  your  gates  and  sing 
Hozanna  in  the  highest, 

Hozanna  to  your  king. 
Jerusalem!  Jerusalem 

Sing  for  the  night  is  o'er, 
Hozanna  in  the  highest 

Hozanna  forever  more." 

This  great  strain  of  music,  one  of  the  grandest 
ever  tuned  to  song  ran  through  my  soul  with  thrill- 
ing force  as  we  made  our  way  to  the  Fast  Hotel 
near  the  Joppa  Gate,  where  our  home  would  be 
while  in  the  Holy  City.  We  found  the  hotel  clean 
and  comfortable  and  the  fare  good.  Brother  Wil- 
liams and  myself  were  conducted  to  our  rooms, 
where  as  we  always  did  at  such  times  we  sought 
our  mail.  What  matters  dusty  clothes,  dirty  faces 
and  uncombed  hair  when  far  away  from  home  with 
no  word  for  many  days,  your  mail  is  placed  in  your 
hands!  Even  the  charms  of  Jerusalem  were  put 


288  TRAVELS  IN  THE  OLD  WORLD 

aside.  How  good  it  was  again  to  get  messages  from 
loved  ones  and  friends  and  know  their  prayers  were 
following  us!  How  pleasant  was  the  sight  of  a 
Virginia  newspaper  even  though  its  date  line  was 
nearly  a  month  behind  the  date ! 

We  took  a  short  walk  out  into  the  streets  after 
supper  but  soon  returned  to  get  off  some  mail,  and 
spend  the  hours  till  bed  time  meditating  and  read- 
ing from  our  Bibles,  the  portion  relating  to  Jerusa- 
lem. What  a  privilege  to  sit  here  in  Jerusalem  and 
read  these  things  from  the  Bible  on  the  ground 
where  they  happened?  We  knelt  by  our  beds  and 
thanked  God  for  blessing  us  with  this  cherished 
privilege,  and  then  we  tried  to  sleep.  But  who  could 
sleep  on  their  first  night  in  Jerusalem?  How  pic- 
tures arose  before  our  minds !  How  the  mellow  voice 
of  Israel's  singing  Shepherd  rang  in  our  souls !  How 
strange  things  climbed  the  steps  of  memeory  and 
knocked  at  the  door  of  our  hearts  and  pulled  the 
latch  strings  with  all  their  might!  Why,  right  on 
this  spot  the  Wise  Men  came  enquiring  of  the  Holy 
Child;  here  David  and  Solomon  ruled;  here  Jesus 
walked  and  talked  and  died.  Who  could  sleep  when 
such  history  of  many  centuries  clamored  for  atten- 
tion? We  went  to  our  window  and  looked  out  on 
the  city  with  its  flat  top  houses,  and  down  on  the 
white  road  that  wound  like  a  ribbon  from  over  the 
hills  of  Dan  into  the  Joppa  Gate.  Caravans  of  stately 
camels  with  measured  tread  and  unlifted  solemn 
heads  were  coming  into  the  city  with  the  products 
of  the  land,  just  as  they  had  been  doing  since  the 
world  was  young.    All  night  long  we  heard  the  jin- 


Climbing  the  Great  Pyramid  in  Egypt. 


TRAVELS  IN  THE   OLD  WORLD  289 

gle  of  their  bells  and  the  call  of  their  drivers  under 
our  window. 

We  were  up  early  the  following  morning  with  a 
mind  and  heart  to  see  Jerusalem,  and  after  our 
breakfast  of  cold  bread,  butter  and  coffee,  we  set 
out  to  see  the  Holy  City.    Is  there  in  all  the  world 
any  city  like  it?    In  classifying  the  cities  must  we 
not  put  it  in  a  list  all  alone?    Other  cities  belong  to 
empires  and  kingdoms,  Jerusalem  belongs  to  the 
world.    Other  cities  belong  to  certain  races,  Jerusa- 
lem belongs  to  the  human  race.     Other  cities  have 
shrines  for  certain  faiths,  Jerusalem  is  the  Holy 
City  for  all.    The  Jew  loves  it,  sings  his  home-sick 
songs  about  it  in  exile  far  and  wide;  speaks  it  with 
accents  of  devotion  and  when  he  comes  to  it  weeps 
over  it  like  the  Savior  did  whom  his  people  re- 
jected   as   their   Lord.      The    Mohammedan   often 
spends  all  his  means  and  strength  and  gives  his 
life  in  his  effort  to  make  long  pilgrimages  to  behold 
its  sacred  scenes  and  worship  at  its  shrines.    The 
Armenian,    Abasynians    and    Copts    count    it   the 
greatest  joy  in  their  lives  to  pass  beyond  its  walls. 
The   Catholics,  both   Greek  and   Roman,   have  so 
adored  it  that  they  bow  down  in  worship  to  its  em- 
blems and  objects.     Far  and  wide  the  hearts  of 
Protestant  Christians  have  brought  them  here  to  sit 
upon  the  ashes  of  its  former  glory  and  call  up  before 
them  visions  of  things  dear  to  their  souls.    It  is  even 
used  as  a  type  of  heaven.    Jerualem  gains  this  dis- 
tinct place  in  history  because  it  was  the  city  where 
heaven  and  earth  touched,  and  the  spot  where  the 
life  of  God  and  the  blood  of  man  met  together  in 


290  TRAVELS  IN   THE   OLD  WORLD 

the  body  of  Christ  in  the  greatest  sacrifice  tiistory 
ever  knew.  Thus  the  world  was  forever  linked  to 
the  throne  of  God  with  a  golden  chain  of  Eternal 
Love  sealed  with  the  Blood  of  Christ. 

The  history  of  Jerusalem  runs  far  back  in  the 
beginnings  and  loses  its  trail  in  the  shadows  far 
away.  The  name  is  a  combination  of  Jebus  and 
Salem.  It  is  supposed  to  have  been  founded  by 
Jebus,  the  son  of  Canaan,  who  was  Noah's  grand- 
son and  for  a  long  time  bore  his  name.  Then  it 
took  the  name  of  Salem  and  that  mysterious  charac- 
ter, Melchizedek,  was  its  king.  Its  first  name  sign- 
fied  "trodden  down"  and  Salem  meant  "City  of 
Peace."  Well  do  these  names  blend  in  Jerusalem, 
for  while  it  stands  for  peace  it  has  been  trodden 
down  as  no  city  on  earth.  It  has  been  beseiged 
twenty-seven  times  and  in  and  about  its  walls  rivers 
of  blood  -have  flown.  No  city  ever  founded  has  ex- 
perienced so  many  unspeakable  horrors  as  the  pas- 
sion of  the  nations  inflamed  with  the  fires  of  hate 
have  charged  about  its  walls. 

Our  hotel  was  just  outside  the  Joppa  Gate  so  na- 
turally our  first  steps  would  be  through  this  historic 
gate  into  the  city  proper.  In  the  big  gate  we  saw  the 
little  one  called  "the  needle's  eye"  which  was  open 
for  footmen  when  the  big  gate  was  closed  to  traffic. 
Some  have  thought  this  is  what  Jesus  meant  when  he 
said  it  was  easier  for  a  camel  to  go  through  the  eye 
of  a  needle  than  for  a  rich  man  to  enter  the  kingdom 
of  heaven.  A  camel  could  squeeze  through  this  lit- 
tle gate  if  he  removed  all  his  baggage  and  got  down 
on  his  knees.    So  if  the  rich  man  does  that  he  can 


TRAVELS   IN  THE  OLD  WORLD  291 

enter  the  gate  of  the  Kingdom.  Traders  and  beg- 
gars in  abundance  were  at  the  gate  waiting  for  us. 
We  halted  only  a  moment  as  we  were  out  for  other 
things  and  would  go  shopping  later.  We  did  return 
to  look  over  the  goods  and  make  purchases. 

We  visited  Mt.  Zion,  the  portion  of  the  city  occu- 
pied by  David  as  his  headquarters.  Zion  means 
"sunny"  and  this  point  being  the  highest  ground  in 
the  city,  was  full  of  light  and  sunshine,  thus  well- 
suited  for  the  fortified  home  of  King  David.  Near 
here  stands  the  Tower  of  David.  It  is  an  old  castle 
whose  history  is  in  doubt  and  it  is  now  used  for 
barracks  for  soldiers.  The  walls  of  the  city 
at  this  point  show  clearly  three  eras  of  building, 
Hebrew,  Roman  and  Modern.  We  then  passed 
down  David  Street  and  Christian  Street,  two  promi- 
nent streets  of  the  city.  They  are  like  all  streets, 
very  narrow  and  crowded  with  venders,  beggars, 
tourists,  camels  and  donkeys. 

Our  next  visit  was  to  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Sep- 
ulchre, one  of  the  far-famed  shrines  of  the  world. 
It  is  not  my  purpose  to  say  much  about  this  church. 
It  may  seem  gross  sacrilege  to  those  who  count  it 
the  most  sacred  spot  of  all  earth  and  would  die 
to  stand  on  its  holy  ground,  but  I  must  say  I  took 
little  interest  in  it.  I  came  to  Palestine  determined 
not  to  deal  in  question  marks  of  faith-destroying 
criticism.  My  eyes  and  ears  were  not  to  give  their 
precious  time  to  those  places  and  things  that  mar 
and  spoil  and  stain  the  real  life  and  meaning  of  the 
Holy  Land  and  its  glorious  history.  I  would  look 
beyond  the  spoils  and  desecrators  of  the  Temple  and 


292  TRAVELS  IN   THE   OLD  WORLD 

the  Tabernacle.  I  would  throw  the  ashes  aside  to 
find  the  buried  gold.  I  would  look  beyond  the  clouds 
to  the  sun  that  shone  in  light  and  life,  and  above 
the  growl  and  grumble  of  fanatics  and  dirty  beg- 
gars' empty  hands.  I  would  hear  the  voice  of  God 
speaking  and  see  the  bleeding  hands  of  Christ.  So 
the  shams  and  lies  bothered  me  not.  The  fact  that 
they  grouped  in  this  church  all  the  world's  history 
was  no  concern  of  mine.  I  saw  Adam's  grave  and 
his  skull,  the  real  cross  on  which  Jesus  died,  the 
rock  on  which  his  body  rested,  his  tomb  and  all  his 
history.  Here  in  a  dark  church  are  many  candles 
in  golden  candle  sticks  burned,  casting  solemn  rays 
on  gold  and  silver  crosses  and  altars  whose  glitter 
and  profusion  might  bemuddle  a  cardinal;  but  be- 
yond all  this  prison,  I  looked  to  the  hills  where  Je- 
sus lived  the  outdoor  life  and  died  the  outdoor 
death.  There  never  was  any  convent  dust  or  mon- 
astery mildew  on  the  garments  of  Jesus  Christ. 
There  was  the  smell  of  the  fields  on  his  garments, 
the  dust  of  the  road  on  his  cheeks.  The  Master  was 
no  monk,  he  was  a  man ;  a  manlier  man  than  any  of 
the  masters  have  painted  Him  or  Theologians  have 
pictured  Him.  His  life  was  in  the  market  place, 
fields,  lake  side,  high  ways  and  not  in  dungeons  and 
cloisters,  and  yet  the  Catholics  have  taken  every 
thing  sacred  they  could  find,  built  over  it  a  gloomy, 
dark  old  church,  sprinkled  about  it  their  incense  and 
lighted  their  pitiful  little  candles,  instead  of  turn- 
ing on  the  sunlight  and  incense  of  Nature's  sweet 
atmosphere.  I  must  be  excused  if  I  took  little  in- 
terest in  these  prison  churches  but  looked  beyond 
their  gloomy  walls  to  the  great  Outside. 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  293 

There  is  one  thing,  however,  that  did  impress  me 
about  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre.  It  is  the 
joint  property  of  the  Greek-Catholics,  the  Roman- 
Catholics,  the  Armenians  and  Copts.  These  religious 
bodies  have  fought  many  a  bloody  battle  here  on  its 
shrines  in  jealous  rage  to  control  its,  altars.  The 
dome  was  dirty  and  needed  cleaning  but  they  were 
unable  to  decide  who  could  be  trusted  with  the  work. 
Every  Easter  people  are  killed  in  their  fiendish  con- 
tention about  its  shrines.  The  Turks  hold  the  keys 
and  only  by  their  consent  can  these  worshippers  get 
access  to  their  own  altars.  These  Turkish  soldiers 
are  ever  on  guard  to  see  that  the  devout  worshippers 
do  not  kill  one  another! 

We  then  went  through  the  city  to  St.  Stephen's 
gate,  out  of  which  the  enraged  crowd  thrust  the 
young  saint  and  stoned  him  to  death  because  he 
preached  the  Holy  Ghost.  Here  was  the  very  place 
where  he  knelt  down  under  the  shower  of  crushing 
stones  that  mangled  his  body,  praying  for  those 
who  did  the  deed,  committed  his  spirit  into  the 
hands  of  God,  while  Jesus  stood  at  the  throne  of 
God  (at  other  times  He  is  represented  as  sitting)  to 
welcome  the  martyr  home,  For  a  long  time  the  gate 
that  was  baptized  with  his  blood  has  borne  his  name. 

We  visited  the  scene  of  Pilate's  Judgment  Hall, 
where  Jesus  was  tried  and  condemned  to  death.  A 
Catholic  monastery  and  orphanage  is  now  on  this 
site.  The  sisters  in  charge  were  very  courteous  to 
us,  received  us  kindly  and  put  before  us  many  lit- 
tle things  made  by  the  children.  Many  of  them 
showed  skill  and  were  very  attractive.     Our  party 


294  TRAVELS  IN   THE   OLD  WORLD 

gathered  in  the  chapel  that  is  said  to  be  on  the  spot 
where  Jesus  was  condemned  and  scourged,  and  had 
a  little  prayer  service.  It  may  seem  odd  for  us  to 
have  service  in  a  Catholic  church,  but  we  did.  We 
had  brass  enough  to  do  it  without  asking  permission. 
Our  next  move  was  to  leave  the  city  for  a  visit 
to  the  Mount  bf  Olives.  Wonderful,  beautiful  hill  is 
this  Mount  of  Olives!  The  finest  vision  of  Jerusa- 
lem is  seen  from  this  hilltop.  When  Jerusalem  was 
in  her  glory,  sitting  as  a  queen  upon  her  hill  there, 
with  the  rising  sun  shining  upon  the  sides  of  Solo- 
mon's Temple  and  all  her  greatness,  it  must  have 
been  like  the  city  John  saw  let  down  from  God  out 
of  heaven.  You  can  always  get  better  visions  from  a 
mountain  or  elevated  place.  You  feel  more  in  a  spirit 
for  seeing  and  things  are  more  prepared  to  be  seen. 
What  visions  do  rise  up  to  the  soul  standing  on 
Olivet!  How  Jesus  loved  this  hill  and  how  oft  He 
found  comfort  and  communion  in  the  shades  of  her 
green  olive  trees !  There  are  a  great  many  of  these 
beautiful  trees  on  Olivet  now,  and  in  the  days  of 
Jesus,  when  the  country  was  more  flourishing  than 
it  is  now,  Olivet  must  have  been  covered  with  olive 
trees  until  it  presented  one  of  the  most  charming 
pictures  to  be  seen  anywhere.  These  trees  were 
His  friends. 

"And  still  they  stand  above  the  Holy  City 
A  rugged  road  of  hoary-headed  trees 
Among  whose  boughs  the  wind  with  heedless  ditty 
Bloweth  from  out  the  far  off  skies. 
All  thought  is  here  of  Him,  and  fancy  sees 
The  love-lit  face  the  nights  beneath  the  trees 


TRAVELS  IN  THE  OLD  WORLD  295 

In  prayer  for  us ;  we  hide  rebellious  tears 

And  pray  that  his  sweet  spirit  j 

May  guide  our  faltering  years." 

What  he  thought  and  the  feelings  that  went 
through  His  soul  in  the  days  and  nights  of  His  re- 
tirement here,  is  well  worth  our  pondering.  This 
was  the  Master's  rest  room,  His  study,  His  retir- 
ing place.  He  went  over  into  the  city  to  do  His 
work  and  face  His  battles,  but  down  the  slope  across 
Kedron  and  up  Olivet  He  came  to  the  quiet  of  the 
olive  trees  where  His  soul  could  find  peace  and  where 
His  Father  could  speak  to  Him  while  the  leaves  of 
the  trees  made  soft  music  to  His  listening  soul.  It 
was  from  this  place,  somewhere,  when  His  soul  was 
full  to  overflowing  and  His  heart  full  to  bursting 
with  Jerusalem's  hard-heartedness,  he  criel  out,  "O 
Jerusalem !  Jerusalem !  How  oft  would  I  have  gath- 
ered thee  together  as  a  hen  doth  gather  her  chickens 
under  her  wings  but  ye  would  not." 

Standing  on  the  Mount  of  Olives,  I  read  this  pas- 
sage from  my  Bible,  and  coming  down  the  sides  of 
Olivet  we  saw  a  hen  spreading  her  wings  about  her 
little  brood. 

It  was  on  Olivet  or  somewhere  near  the  crest 
where  we  stood  that  His  holy  feet  left  the  earth  and 
He  ascended  into  heaven.  Luke  says,  Luke  24:50,- 
51 — "And  He  led  them  out  as  far  as  Bethany  and 
lifted  up  His  hands  and  blessed  them,  and  it  came 
to  pass  while  He  blessed  them  He  was  parted  from 
them  and  carried  up  into  heaven."  It  would  seem 
from  this  He  ascended  from  Bethany  as  many  sup- 
pose, and  yet  Olivet  Deing  so  very  close  to  Bethany, 


296  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

He  could  have  parted  with  them  at  Bethany  and 
coming  up  Olivet  to  reach  the  highest  point  where 
the  Holy  City  could  be  so  plainly  in  view,  He 
mounted  on  the  chariot  of  God's  love  up  to  the  gates 
of  heaven.  And  yet,  what  doth  it  matter  which 
theory  of  the  doctors  is  right?  We  looked  upon  the 
spot  where  His  feet  last  rested  on  earth,  for  it  was 
somewhere  near  here.  It  is  a  wise  provision  perhaps 
that  the  exact  spot  is  not  known.  The  Catholics 
would  cover  it  with  a  dark  church  and  sprinkle  in- 
cense over  the  shadows  they  cast.  Let  the  spot  be 
unknown.  What  might  crazed  fanatics  do  if  thev 
really  knew? 

Looking  west  from  Olivet  we  saw  almost  at  its 
base,  Bethany,  the  home  of  Martha,  Mary  and  Laza- 
rus, the  faithful  friends  of  Jesus,  who  ever  gave 
him  a  place  in  their  home  for  rest  and  comfort. 
Near  Bethany  we  could  see  Bethphage,  where  the 
disciples  got  the  ass  upon  which  Jesus  rode  into  Je- 
rusalem. His  course  was  one  of  the  three  roads, 
either  over  Olivet,  around  the  Southern  slope  near 
the  foot,  or  the  road  still  further  west.  What  an 
assembly  that  was!  The  Savior  of  the  world  was 
in  the  dress  of  a  Galilean  traveler,  riding  upon  an 
ass  at  the  head  of  that  great  company,  while  palm 
branches  were  spread  in  his  way  and  the  men,  wo- 
men and  the  little  children  shouted  (of  course  the 
children  did)  "Hozanna  to  the  son  of  David !  Blessed 
is  he  that  cometh  in  the  name  of  the  Lord,  Hozanna 
in  the  highest !"  Matt.  21 :9.  Perhaps  yonder  through 
the  Golden  Gate,  just  near  the  temple,  the  procession 
entered  the  city.    The  Turks  closed  up  that  gate  hun- 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD  WORLD  297 

dreds  of  years  ago  because  of  a  report  among  them 
that  a  conqueror  would  come  from  the  East,  over 
Olivet,  some  day  and  enter  Jerusalem  through  this 
gate  aLd  take  possession  of  the  city.  What  a  ser- 
mon that  closed  gate  preached  to  us  that  day!  Of 
course  a  conqueror  is  coming  from  the  East  to  rule 
not  only  over  Jerusalem  but  over  the  world,  and  how 
his  conquering  coming  will  differ  from  His  humble 
entrance  to  the  city  before !  Do  the  silly  Turks  think 
they  can  wall  up  a  gate  and  keep  Him  out?  Cannot 
He  who  entered  through  the  locked  door  to  the  pray- 
er meeting  of  his  Apostles  pass  beyond  all  the  walls 
man  may  build? 

On  beyond  Bethany,  down  beyond  the  foothills 
ran  the  blue  stream  of  the  River  Jordan  winding  its 
crooked  course  to  the  Dead  Sea.  It  seemed  as  it 
burst  upon  my  vision  it  could  not  be  over  four  or 
five  miles  away,  but  again  I  was  fooled  by  the  clear 
air  of  this  land,  for  I  knew  Jordan  was  over  twenty 
miles  away. 

We  visited  the  two  Catholic  churches  on  Olivet 
and  attended  the  services  in  one  of  them.  The  most 
striking  thing  about  these  churches  was  the  win- 
dows. The  words  of  the  Lord's  prayer  were  ar- 
ranged in  striking  design  on  thirty-seven  windows 
in  thirty-seven  different  languages. 

Passing  from  the  Mount  of  Olives  we  visited  the 
tomb  of  Herod  the  Great,  also  the  Tomb  of  the  Kings 
which  is  one  of  the  most  noted  burial  places  about 
Jerusalem.  These  large  tombs  and  chambers  are 
hewn  out  of  solid  rock.  There  are  two  stories  and 
many  rooms    in  these  tombs.      Their  history  is  un- 


298  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

certain.  Perhaps  they  were  for  the  Roman  kings, 
or  maybe  the  Jewish  kings.  I  could  but  wonder  as 
I  beheld  all  these  ancient  burial  places,  what  dis- 
tinguished forms  were  put  to  rest  within  their  walls. 
It  would  be  interesting  if  the  mind  could  call  up  the 
picture  of  all  these  burials. 

We  drove  along  the  road  over  the  slope  of  Olivet 
around  to  the  Damascus  Gate,  passing  two  caravans 
of  camels  and  a  flock  of  sheep.  They  followed  the 
shepherd  and  obeyed  all  his  calls.  A  little  lamb  was 
tired  and  unable  to  finish  the  journey,  so  the  shep- 
herd took  him  in  his  arms  and  carried  him  on.  Many 
times  the  Master  saw  scenes  like  this  and  from  them 
He  drew  the  finest  lessons  of  the  Father's  love  and 
care  for  His  little  ones. 

From  the  carriages  as  they  went  along  that  after- 
noon, our  eyes  rested  on  a  knoll  outside  the  city  wall 
northward  of  the  city.  It  took  no  word  from  the 
guide  to  tell  us  this  was  Mount  Calvary,  where  Jesus 
died  upon  the  cross.  Who  could,  with  word  or  pen, 
describe  his  feelings  as  he  looks  upon  that  skull- 
shaped  hill  where  our  Savior  hung  upon  the  cross 
and  died  for  our  sins?  Doubtless  all  of  us  were 
thinking  of  the  day  in  the  years  gone  by,  far  away 
from  there,  when  groping  through  the  shadows  of 
sin,  our  souls  sought  the  cross  of  Jesus.  All  broken, 
tired  and  sick  with  sin  we  came  to  let  the  blood  that 
was  shed  on  Calvary  cleanse  us  of  our  sin.  The  chil- 
dren of  God  in  the  church  of  our  childhood  seemed 
to  be  singing  again : 

"Just  as  I  am  without  one  plea 
But  that  Thy  blood  was  shed  for  me 
And  that  Thou  bidst  me  come  to  Thee, 
O  Lamb  of  God,  I  come,  I  come." 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD  WORLD  299 

We  felt  ourselves  coming  again  to  the  altar  of 
the  old  church  six  thousand  miles  away,  with  broken 
heart  and  tear-filled  eyes,  and  kneeling  at  the  altar 
of  our  fathers,  that  had  known  so  many  tears  of 
sorrow  and  joy,  the  soul,  hungry  and  sick,  sought 
the  dying  Savior  in  penitent  prayer,  while  the 
verse  came  sweet  and  low — 

"Just  as  I  am  Thou  wilt  receive ; 

Will  welcome,  pardon,  cleanse,  relieve, 

Because  Thy  promise  I  believe: 

0  Lamb  of  God,  I  come,  I  come." 
And  when  the  seeking  sinner  and  the  seeking  Sa- 
vior met,  and  the  Savior  had  spoken  "Peace" — 
the  sweet  peace  of  forgiveness  to  the  seeking  soul 
the  people  sang: 

"Just  as  I  am  Thy  love  unknown 

Hath  broken  every  barrier  down; 

Now  to  be  Thine,  yea,  Thine  alone ; 

0  Lamb  of  God,  I  come,  I  come." 

In  our  hearts  we  had  been  to  Calvary  before,  but 
now  we  were  standing  by  the  real  spot  where  the 
Lord  was  crucified.  I  tried  to  picture  the  scene  but 
it  was  a  poor  effort,  for  my  soul  was  too  overcome 
to  picture  or  describe  anything.  The  three  crosses 
were  there  on  the  crest  of  the  hill  and  the  soldiers 
on  guard  near  by.  The  surroundings  would  afford 
a  splendid  theatre  where  the  great  crowd  that  had 
come  into  the  city  to  the  Passover  could  see  the  acts 
on  the  stage  in  the  center.  The  mass  of  people 
crowded  around  to  see  the  performance — the  public 
crucifixion  of  three  criminals  who  had  proven  them- 


300  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

selves  unworthy  of  living  among  them.  Yonder, 
near  the  cross,  was  a  little  company  more  touched 
than  the  others,  a  poor,  bent  and  crushed  woman 
wept  but  she  had  not  left  her  Son. 

"Near  the  cross  was  Mary  weeping; 

There  her  mournful  station  keeping ; 

Gazing  on  her  dying  Son ; 

There  in  speechless  anguish  groaning, 

Yearning,  trembling,  sighing,  moaning; 

Through  her  soul  the  sword  had  gone." 

Then  comes  one  of  the  most  tender  touches  of  all 
the  history  of  men.  The  dying  eyes  of  Jesus  were 
turned  toward  that  bent  and  troubled  figure.  In 
the  midst  of  the  most  intense  agony  the  body  and 
the  soul  have  ever  known,  He  did  not  forget  His 
mother.  He  was  all  she  had,  and  she  was  all  He  had. 
He  had  no  home  or  earthly  store  to  will  those  He 
left  behind.  He  need  not  even  think  about  who 
would  take  his  garments,  the  only  earthly  posses- 
sion He  had,  for  the  soldiers  who  killed  Him  would 
take  His  clothes  for  the  trouble.  Yet  He  made  a 
will,  an  additional  will  to  the  one  He  made  in  John 
14,  when  as  a  last  will  and  testament  He  left  His 
friends  a  legacy  of  Peace  and  Titles  to  Mansions  in 
the  skies.  This  is  a  very  peculiar  will.  There  is  no 
case  like  it.  When  the  eyes  of  the  Savior  saw  Mary 
His  white  lips  moved  "John,  behold  thy  mother, 
Mother,  behold  thy  son."  He  had  willed  his  mother 
to  His  best  friend  and  willed  His  best  friend  to  His 
mother.  Mary,  leaning  on  the  arm  of  her  new  son 
John,  went  down  from  Calvary.    What  tender  pic- 


'  TRAVELS  IN  THE  OLD  WORLD  301 

tures  we  would  see  if  we  could  follow  them  through 
the  rest  of  their  earthly  life  and  see  how  each  one 
tried  to  carry  out  the  Savior's  dying  request. 

I  think  the  greatest  description  of  the  crucifixion 
I  have  ever  seen  is  that  of  General  Wallace  in  Ben 
Hur.  Over  and  over  in  my  mind  ran  the  words  He 
uses  and  rose  the  pictures  He  draws  as  we  stood 
about  Calvary.  It  is  not  strange  that  the  lips  of 
those  in  our  carriage  ceased  speaking  and  tears  ran 
unhindered  from  the  eyes  that  watched  the  scene 
that  day. 

Calvary  is  occupied  by  a  Mohammedan  cemetery 
and  no  alien  foot  is  allowed  upon  its  top.  People 
have  been  killed  for  trying  to  reach  it.  While  the 
Christian  heart  revolts  at  the  thought  of  Turks  own- 
ing Calvary,  it  seemed  to  me  that  it  was  better  so 
than  for  the  Catholics  to  own  it  and  cover  it  with 
a  gloomy  church  and  let  priests  sling  incense  where 
Jesus  died.  Now  it  is  bare  and  the  sun  shines 
on  it  while  all  who  come  can  see  it.  Surely,  no  build- 
ing ought  ever  be  put  on  Mt.  Calvery. 

From  Calvary  we  went  to  the  Garden  in  which 
is  located  the  tomb  where  Christ  was  buried.  Of 
course,  great  controversies  have  waged  over  the  lo- 
cation of  these  places.  The  Catholics  have  main- 
tained all  of  them  were  to  be  located  in  the  Church 
of  The  Holy  Sepulchre  within  the  city  walls,  while 
the  great  weight  of  Protestant  scholarship  has 
placed  the  crucifixion  and  the  tomb  outside  the  city 
walls.  It  is  not  the  purpose  of  this  writing  to  trace 
the  arguments  for  this  position.  After  much  study 
of  these  authorities  and  looking  upon  the  scenes 


302  TRAVELS  IN   THE  OLD  WORLD 

with  my  Bible  in  my  hand  to  see  what  it  says,  there 
is  not  a  shadow  of  doubt  to  me  that  "Gordon's  Cal- 
vary" and  "Gordon's  Tomb"  to  the  north  of  the  city 
wall  are  genuine.  They  fill  all  conditions  and  no 
other  place  could.  These  spots  have  General  Gor- 
don's name  associated  with  them  because  by  his  labor 
and  money  the  weight  of  evidence  was  secured  that 
located  them  as  the  real  places  where  Jesus  died 
and  was  buried. 

The  garden  in  which  the  tomb  is  located  is  a  beau- 
tiful one  and  is  owned  by  some  very  devout  Epis- 
copalians from  England.  The  old  gentleman,  who 
was  the  garden  keeper  was  indeed  an  attractive 
Christian  gentleman  of  culture  and  spiritual  force. 
He  seems  to  live  in  the  atmosphere  of  the  garden 
where  Jesus  was  buried,  providing  an  opportunity 
for  followers  of  Jesus  to  visit  these  sacred  spots 
and  devoutly  meditate,  rather  than  using  the  garden 
for  commercial  purposes.  How  different  was  the 
atmosphere  of  this  garden  to  other  sacred  places 
occupied  by  lazy  Turks  and  Catholics  who  drone 
out  their  Latin  and  scatter  incense!  It  was  re- 
freshing to  find  the  tomb  where  Jesus  was  buried, 
occupied  by  devout  Episcopalians. 

We  greatly  enjoyed  our  visit  to  this  garden  and 
the  lecture  by  the  keeper.  We  entered  this  tomb 
that  had  the  name  "Joseph"  carved  on  it  and  read 
there  the  gospel  account  of  Christ's  burial.  What 
feelings  came  to  our  hearts,  as  standing  with  bowed 
heads  in  the  empty  tomb  of  Jesus,  we  reflected  on 
the  scene  so  dear  to  Christian  hearts!  We  could 
almost  see  the  weeping  women  coming  in  the  gray 


TRAVELS  IN  THE  OLD  WORLD  303 

dawn  of  the  first  Easter  morning,  their  hands  full 
of  sweet  spices,  their  hearts  full  of  a  sweeter  love, 
and  their  eyes  overflowing  with  tears.  All  others 
had  left  Him.  Fearing  naught  that  might  be  in 
their  path,  they  sought  His  tomb  with  a  question 
on  their  lips  as  to  how  their  weak  feminine  hands 
could  roll  the  stone  away,  but  with  a  faith  in  their 
hearts  that  somehow  God  would  attend  to  that. 
Then  they  went  back  with  the  first  message  of  a 
Risen  Saviour  for  a  waiting,  hungry  world  upon 
their  lips.  Peter  and  John  were  so  stirred  that  they 
braved  the  dangers  and  ran  with  questions  on  their 
lips  to  see  for  themselves.  "So  they  ran,  both  of 
them  together,  and  the  other  disciple  did  outrun 
Peter  and  came  first  to  the  sepulchre,  and  he,  stoop- 
ing down  and  looking  in  saw  the  linen  clothes  ly- 
ing, yet  he  went  not  in.  Then  came  Simon  Peter 
following  him  and  went  into  the  sepulchre."  Jno. 
20:4-6.  John  outran  Peter  I  suppose  because  poor 
Peter  was  so  weakened  by  his  suffering  since  his 
awful  sin  of  denial,  and  his  eyes  were  so  blinded 
with  tears  he  made  a  poor  runner.  When  they 
reached  the  tomb  John  halted  for  fear,  but  Peter 
overtook  him,  passed  him  and  went  into  the  tomb 
where  his  Lord  had  been.  What  must  have  been  the 
feelings  of  their  hearts  as  they  came  to  the  grave 
of  the  best  friend  they  had  ever  had  and  found  it 
empty,  knowing  that  no  power  could  open  it  and 
get  the  body  away  but  the  power  that  went  in  with 
His  body  when  it  was  buried? 

Of  course  the  authorities  tried  by  bribery  and 
lies  to  prove  his  disciples  stole  His  body  away  while 


304  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

the  soldiers  slept.  But  who  would  believe  it?  The 
disciples  could  not  open  the  tomb,  and  they  were 
too  frightened  and  timid  to  try.  The  soldiers  would 
not  sleep,  for  it  was  a  death  penalty  to  sleep  on 
duty.  And  the  whole  company  would  not  sleep 
while  such  a  robbery  went  on  under  their  noses. 
Besides  this,  if  there  ever  was  a  time  and  place  when 
people  were  not  inclined  to  sleep  it  was  here  and 
now.  This  was  a  weak  and  foolish  theory,  and  the 
people  did  not  believe  it.  They  knew  it  was  the 
hand  of  God  and  not  human  hands  that  opened  the 
tomb. 

What  strange  feelings  came  to  our  own  hearts 
as  we  stood  beside  this  tomb!  Many  times  I  had 
tried  to  preach  to  poor  souls  as  they  stood  beside 
the  graves  of  their  buried  treasures.  I  had  assured 
mothers  across  the  seas  that  their  little  ones  were 
not  dead  but  sleeping,  and  soon  the  Lord  who  rose 
from  the  dead  Himself  would  raise  them  up  and 
place  them  in  their  mother's  arms.  I  had  assured 
children  they  would  see  their  parents  again.  I  had 
said  it  was  all  wrong  to  say  they  were  dead.  They 
were  only  sleeping.  I  had  comforted  myself  thus 
beside  the  graves  of  my  own  loved  ones  many  lea- 
gues from  here.  What  a  privilege  to  have  our  faith 
thus  strengthened  by  a  visit  to  the  empty  tomb  and 
looking  in  on  the  place  where  he  arose    and  sing 

"In  rising  God  forsakes  the  tomb ; 
In  vain  the  tomb  forbids  His  rise 
Cherubic  legions  guard   Him  home 
And  shout  Him  welcome  to  the  skies. 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  305 

Our  approach  to  Jerusalem  this  time  was  from 
over  the  hills  of  Galilee  into  the  Damascus  Gate. 
Charles  Jallouk  met  us  at  Shechem  in  a  car  and 
took  me  ahead  of  the  folks  to  make  arrangements 
for  them,  and  have  rooms  assigned  for  our  folks. 

No  event  of  the  tour  was  more  enjoyed  than  our 
evening  at  Tea  in  the  Jallouk  home.  These  folks 
are  born  noblemen.  The  Jallouk  Brothers  are  the 
best  guides  in  Palestine,  and  their  wives  and  chil- 
dren are  a  credit  to  them.  During  the  war  news 
came  to  me  that  Philip,  the  Prince  of  them  all,  had 
died  with  Typhus  fever  in  Moab.  I  waved  Philip 
and  George  goodbye  at  the  Beyrout  dock  in  1914. 
I  looked  down  on  George  sad  and  alone  at  the  same 
place  six  years  later.  He  was  broken  and  at  times 
sad,  but  he  was  still  the  same  true  unselfish  gentle- 
man, ready  to  wear  himself  out  for  us. 

It  was  several  days  until  I  had  a  good  opport- 
unity to  hear  George  tell  the  details  of  his  brother's 
death  and  recount  some  of  the  sorrows  and  horrors 
of  the  war.  I  sometimes  wish  I  could  reproduce 
the  pictures  he  drew,  and  give  the  soft  light  in  his 
eyes,  with  the  shadows  on  his  face  and  the  quiver 
on  his  lips.  It  is  best  I  cannot  do  it.  My  blunt 
interpretation  is  not  equal  to  it. 

When  the  war  came,  the  tourists  ceased  to  come. 
The  Turks  confiscated  money  and  property  and 
forced  men  in  the  army.  Christians,  who  did  not 
flee,  were  deported.  Many  starved,  beggars  died 
faster  than  they  could  be  counted  and  a  stream 
went  along  the  roads  all  the  time.  None  could  help 
them      The  Jallouks  lost   everything  and   fled  to 


306  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

escape  the  Turks.  They  were  taken  in  by  Christians 
in  Moab.  Philip  and  his  wife  were  sick  of  fever. 
He  died  while  she  was  unconscious.  When  she  came 
from  delirium  she  asked  where  Philip  was.  They 
told  her  he  had  gone  to  Jerusalem.  That  Prince  of 
God's  Israel  had  entered  the  pearly  gates  of  the  new 
Jerusalem. 

We  entered  the  Jallouk  home  through  the  gate  in 
the  wall  and  sat  under  the  vine  and  fig  tree.  The 
true  real  hospitality  of  the  East  met  us.  Mother 
Jallouk — a  kindly  sweet  old  lady — in  whose  heart 
sorrow  had  done  its  work — was  in  front  of  the  re- 
ceiving line.  Philip's  widow,  her  fine  children,  Mrs. 
George  and  the  younger  brother's  wife,  helped  re- 
ceive and  serve.  Culture  and  manners  were  in  evi- 
dence. We  feasted  on  tea,  Turkish  coffee,  Oriental 
cakes  (delicious)  fruits  and  other  dainties. 

I  talked  to  the  old  mother  thru  an  interpreter. 
She  held  a  locket  in  her  hand  which  she  wears  near 
her  heart  and  said,  "Philip."  The  tears  were  in 
her  eyes.  I  told  her  now  many  Americans,  who 
knew  Philip,  loved  him  and  grieved  at  his  death. 
I  told  her  what  a  great  treasure  it  was,  to  have 
such  a  son  and  how  happy  she  would  be  when  she 
met  him  in  Heaven.    We  will  never  forget  that  visit. 

We  had  a  busy  Sunday  in  Jerusalem,  going  to 
church.  We  went  to  Mass  in  the  Catholic  church, 
the  Greek  church  and  the  Armenian  church.  At 
eleven  we  worshipped  in  Christ  Episcopal  Church. 
Here  we  found  a  houseful  of  worshippers  and  the 
service  made  us  feel  at  home.  All  the  British 
soldiers  were  there.    It  was  a  good  service  and  a 


TRAVELS  IN  THE  OLD  WORLD  307 

fine  sermon.  In  the  afternoon,  we  attended  ser- 
vices at  the  American  Colony,  and  at  night,  we 
worshipped  at  St.  George's  Episcopal  Church,  the 
church  of  the  Jallouks. 

That  day  of  church  going  in  the  Holy  City  was 
delightful  and  made  up  somewhat  for  times  when 
we  could  not  attend  public  worship. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

ABOUT   THE    WALLS   OF   ZION. 

We  spent  several  days  in  the  Holy  City  and  were 
busy  all  the  time  to  make  every  precious  moment 
count.  Of  course  I  am  not  trying  to  give  anything 
like  a  full  account  of  all  we  saw.  It  would  be  im- 
possible for  me  to  attempt  such  a  thing ;  I  am  merely 
giving  some  impressions  of  some  things. 

One  morning,  just  after  breakfast,  we  all  assem- 
bled in  front  of  the  hotel  for  a  donkey  ride  around 
the  wall  of  the  city.  There  were  fifty-two  of  us 
and  when  we  all  got  together  it  seemed  to  me  I  have 
never  seen  such  an  array  of  donkeys.  We  discussed 
the  matter  of  how  many  donkeys  were  along,  but 
were  never  able  to  determine. 

Palestine  and  Egypt  cannot  be  disassociated  from 
the  donkey.  He  is  its  national  flower.  He  is  every- 
where. If  you  go  out  into  the  fields,  he  is  there 
browsing  and  happy.  If  you  go  in  the  alleys,  he  is 
there  asleep  or  in  deep  study  over  some  solemn  sub- 
ject. If  you  go  into  the  houses,  he  is  there.  If  you 
walk  the  streets,  he  is  stepping  on  your  toes,  root- 
ing his  nose  in  your  neck,  rubbing  his  back  on  you 
and  switching  his  tail  in  your  face  when  he  has 
energy  enough  to  do  so.  You  can't  get  away  from 
him  There  are  ten  thousand  in  Cairo  alone.  You 
can  hire  him  for  a  day's  ride  for  a  song  or  if  you 
want  to  buy  him  you  can  do  so  for  something  like 
five  dollars.  He  is  usually  mouse-colored  but  some- 
times black  or  white.    He  is  so  small  that  your  feet 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  309 

will  almost  drag  the  ground  when  you  mount  him. 
But  notwithstanding  his  insignificant  looks  he  can 
and  does  carry  immense  burdens;  for  one  of  the 
most  pathetic  sights  of  the  country  is  the  way  they 
burden  their  beasts.  And  when  you  get  on  his  back 
you  will  get  one  of  the  most  pleasant  and  comfort- 
able rides  you  ever  had. 

The  world  has  never  given  the  donkey  his  dues. 
It  has  honored  the  horse  in  literature  and  even 
mounted  its  heroes  upon  him  on  their  monuments. 
It  has  immortalized  the  dog  in  eloquent  words  and 
touching  stories  that  have  touched  the  heart  and 
dimmed  the  eyes.  It  has  honored  the  bird  and 
praised  the  cow,  but  what  has  it  ever  done  for  the 
donkey?  He  has  carried  man's  burdens  and  never 
uttered  a  word  of  complaint  save  when  Baalam  tried 
to  drive  him  where  he  knew  he  ought  not  to  go. 
Sure-footed,  careful  and  strong  he  has  carried  man 
where  other  animals  could  not  take  him.  He  has 
carried  his  owners'  children,  cared  for  them  and 
hurt  them  not.  For  all  this  service  he  has  been 
beaten,  half  starved,  and  his  name  used  to  curse  with 
for  when  we  desire  to  put  a  person  down  as  low 
in  the  scale  of  brain  and  character  as  possible  we 
call  him  an  ass.  But  the  donkey  does  not  deserve 
such  treatment,  he  has  traits  that  are  not  com- 
mendable, the  main  two  being  laziness  and  hard- 
headedness,  but  in  the  East  he  is  the  poor  man's 
friend  and  in  our  land  he  ought  to  be. 

We  all  selected  our  donkeys  and  mounted  them 
in  great  confusion.  The  confusion,  however,  was 
among  us,  and  not  them,  for  a  donkey  never  gets 


310  TRAVELS  IN   THE   OLD  WORLD 

confused.  He  is  at  home  anywhere  and  under  all 
circumstances,  he  is  nature's  most  cool-headed  ani- 
mal. He  didn't  even  get  excited  in  the  Ark.  I 
selected  mine,  mounted  him.  His  name  was  Mo- 
hammed, and  I  think  that  was  his  faith,  for  he  had 
some  traits  very  much  like  that  prophet.  He  did 
not  believe  in  progressive  doctrine  but  was  a  stand- 
patter. He  also,  like  the  prophet  believed  in  pre- 
destination, holding  that  whatever  was  going  to  be 
would  take  place  whether  he  was  there  to  see  it  or 
not,  so  he  need  not  hurry.  But  he  also  believed  in 
the  perseverance  of  the  saints,  beliving  that  when 
he  did  start  he  would  keep  on  until  he  got  there 
even  if  the  program  was  over. 

The  vision  of  that  donkey  party  made  impressions 
on  the  slate  of  my  memory  that  will  never  wear  off. 
The  solemn  little  mouse-colored  donkeys  with 
fringes  of  many  colors  on  their  saddles,  long-legged 
men  with  feet  nearly  dragging  the  ground,  digni- 
fied D.  Ds.,  professors  and  bankers,  laughing  lassies 
and  solemn  school  marms,  stout  ladies  and  thin  la- 
dies with  the  bare-foot,  baggy-panted  donkey-boys, 
produced  a  picture  I  have  hung  high  on  the  walls  of 
my  soul. 

After  all  necessary  preliminaries,  we  started 
around  to  the  south  of  the  Joppa  Gate  and  down  the 
Valley  of  Gihon,  that  moves  on  the  south  side  of 
the  city  until  it  becomes  the  Valley  of  Hinnom  and 
runs  into  the  Valley  of  Jehosaphet,  which  is  formed 
by  the  brook  Kedron,  which  runs  between  Olivet 
and  the  city  walls  on  the  east  side.  Thus  the  city  is 
almost  entirely  surrounded  by  these  valleys  which 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD  WORLD  311 

vary  in  depth  from  almost  a  level  where  they  begin 
to  over  six  hundred  and  seventy  feet  at  the  junc- 
ture of  Hinnom  and  Jehosaphat.  A  ride  along  these 
valleys,  around  the  city  walls,  over  ground  historic 
as  no  other  ground  can  be  with  landmarks  that 
stir  your  soul,  is  a  privilege  never  to  be  forgotten. 
I  got  along  very  well  with  my  donkey,  Mohammed. 
I  hope  I  will  not  be  considered  sacreligious  or  disre- 
spectful to  the  prophet  when  I  shorten  his  name  to 
"Ham"  for  all  of  it  too  much  to  say  when  hurried. 
He  was  very  hard  to  get  started,  for  he  seemed  to 
have  a  great  deal  of  pious  meditating  to  do  before  he 
began  his  journey.  After  you  had  exhausted  about 
all  your  energy  to  get  him  under  way  you  had 
equally  as  much  trouble  halting  him  when  and  where 
you  chose.  He  was  like  one  of  the  old-time  freight 
trains  before  the  days  of  air  brakes.  You  had  to  be- 
gin to  put  on  brakes  as  soon  as  you  saw  the  station 
and  then  you  were  sure  to  go  by  it  and  have  to  back 
back  to  it.  To  pull  on  the  reins  was  like  pulling  on 
the  guy-wire  of  a  telegraph  pole.  It  seemed  to  make 
no  impression  on  him.  To  speak  to  him  was  worse, 
for  he  did  not  seem  to  understand  English,  or  if  he 
did  he  paid  no  attention  to  it.  I  did  not  try  Turkey 
talk  to  him,  for  I  never  did  like  to  use  that  lan- 
guage. I  did  devise  a  method  of  management  before 
the  day  was  done.  I  had  wondered  what  his  long 
and  ponderous  ears  were  for  and  I  thought  I  would 
experiment  some,  so  when  I  wanted  him  to  stop  at 
the  Hill  of  Evil  Council  and  he  seemed  bent  on  a 
through  trip  to  Jehosaphat  with  no  stop-overs  al- 
lowed, I  caught  a  big  ear  in  each  hand  <\nd  swung 


312  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

back  on  my  stirrups  with  all  my  might  Ham 
stopped  with  grace  and  dispatch.  After  that  I  dis- 
pensed with  the  bridle  and  when  I  wanted  him  to 
"haw"  I  pulled  his  left  ear  and  when  I  wanted  him 
to  "gee"  I  pulled  his  right  one  and  when  I  wanted 
him  to  "whoa"  I  pulled  both,  and  I  had  no  more 
trouble  save  in  getting  him  started.  I  didn't  learn 
how  to  do  that.  One  of  the  donkey-boys  ran  up 
while  I  was  swinging  on  to  Ham's  ears  to  keep  him 
from  going  into  a  cavern  and  protested.  I  think  he 
was  trying  to  tell  me  in  Arabic  that  this  was  not  the 
proper  way  to  manage  a  donkey.  I  argued  to  him  in 
English  that  it  answered  the  purpose  and  I  pro- 
posed to  continue  it. 

Our  dignified  divinty,  Williams  protested  because 
of  my  treatment  of  my  donkey  and  said  I  ought  to 
talk  to  him  in  his  native  tongue.  So  he  called  a  boy 
and  asked  him  what  to  say  to  the  donkey  to  get 
him  to  stop.  The  boy  said  it  and  the  doctor  re- 
peated it  all  day.  At  the  end  of  the  journey  the 
guide  smiled  and  asked  if  he  knew  what  he  had 
been  saying  to  the  donkey,  he  replied  he  had  been 
telling  him  to  stop,  like  the  boy  told  him.  Imagine 
his  feelings  when  the  guide  told  him  he  had  been 
telling  the  donkev  to  "go  to  the  devil"  all  day.  I 
told  him  I'd  rather  pull  his  ears  than  to  cuss  like 
that. 

Doctor  Gibson  had  turned  out  his  whiskers  for 
reasons  best  known  to  himself.  Perhaps  he  had 
associated  with  goats  until  he  wanted  to  look  like 
one.  When  his  donkey  got  to  the  highest  place  in 
the  Valley  of  Hinnom  (from  which  we  get  our  word 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD  WORLD  313 

"hell")  he  started  down  the  precipice.  I  told  the 
doctor  I  had  seen  a  good  many  things  but  never  saw 
a  Baptist  preacher  on  his  way  to  hell  on  a  donkey 
before.  It  was  suggested  that  the  donkey  looked 
back  and  saw  the  whiskers  and  thought  his  passen- 
ger had  some  interests  in  that  place,  and  he  wanted 
to  take  him  home. 

One  reason  we  had  trouble  guiding  our  steeds  was 
we  did  not  have  enough  donkeyboys.  Each  donkey 
is  accustomed  to  having  a  boy  following  behind  him, 
beating  him  with  a  stick  to  make  him  go  and  using 
his  tail  as  a  rudder  to  guide  him  in  the  true  course. 

We  paused  to  view  the  hill  of  Evil  Council,  where 
Judas  met  the  Chief  Priests  and  the  Scribes  and  in 
secret  planned  the  destruction  of  Jesus.  What  a 
sad  sidelight  on  human  nature?  The  leaders  of 
Church  and  State,  in  secret  plot  to  kill  the  Son  of 
God  when  they  should  have  been  helping  Him  do 
His  Father's  work!  And  saddest  of  all,  Judas,  one 
of  the  Apostles  whom  He  had  trusted,  loved  and 
befriended,  sneaking  through  the  city  in  the  night 
to  join  the  company  to  sell  his  Lord  for  a  little  sil- 
ver! What  sadder  verse  has  the  Scripture  recorded 
than  that  that  says  of  Judas  "He  went  out  and  it 
was  night."  Yes  it  was  night,  a  dark  and  awful 
night  to  his  soul  and  to  the  world.  Their  deeds 
could  only  be  done  in  the  night.  The  devils  creep 
forth  at  nightfull  to  ply  their  trade,  for  as  Jesus 
said  of  them,  "They  love  darkness  rather  than  light 
because  their  deeds  are  evil." 

Not  far  from  the  Hill  of  Evil  Council,  further 
down  the  valley  is  Alkedema,  or  the  Field  of  Blood. 


314  TRAVELS  IN   THE  OLD  WORLD  ,      . 

What  a  history,  has  this  barren,  rocky  field  ?  Bought 
with  the  money  for  which  Judas  sold  his  Lord,  it 
furnished  the  grave  that  was  to  hold  the  body  of 
the  Traitor  himself!  Many  men  buy  their  own 
graves  with  the  money  they  have  loved  more  than 
they  love  their  Lord  or  their  souls !  What  thoughts 
came  into  our  minds  as  we  beheld  this  awful  place ! 
Judas  Iscariot !  What  a  history  he  has?  How  strange 
such  a  black  chapter  should  come  into  the  history 
of  the  beautiful  life  of  Jesus?  What  is  the  mean- 
ing of  it  all  ?  Strange,  sad  mysteries !  It  is  strange 
there  will  grow  in  the  same  soil,  fed  by  the  same 
rain  and  sunshine  a  food  that  gives  life  and  the 
poison  that  destroys  it!  It  is  stranger  still  there 
will  grow  up  in  the  same  home,  reared  by  the  same 
parents  a  child  that  will  honor  his  parents  and  one 
who  brings  their  gray  heads  down  in  sorrow  to  the 
grave!  But  stranger  than  all  is  the  fact  that  in 
the  family  circle  of  Jesus  Christ  there  should  be  a 
Judas  and  a  John! 

The  great  lesson  that  comes  to  us  is — If  from 
the  side  of  Jesus  the  devil  could  drag  one  of  his 
apostles  down  to  ruin  and  hell,  there  is  no  place 
on  earth  where  his  fiendish  feet  may  not  go,  and 
there  is  no  mortal  who  may  not  fall  a  victim  to  his 
assaults.  Judas  did  not  go  the  depths  at  one  leap, 
but  sure  and  swift  were  the  steps  he  took  down 
the  stairway  of  his  doom — covetousness,  jealousy, 
listening  to  the  jingle  of  the  money  more  than  to 
the  words  of  his  Lord ;  resenting  his  Lord's  correc- 
tion, keeping  company  with  his  Lord's  enemies; 
putting  a  price  on  holy  things  and  he  had  reached 


TRAVELS  IN  THE  OLD  WORLD  315 

the  bottom.  But  the  money  burned  him.  He  had 
gained  his  paltry  purse,  but  on  the  other  side  of  the 
balance  were  the  things  he  lost,  his  peace,  his  repu- 
tation, his  place  in  the  church,  his  soul. 

Poor  Judas,  thy  accused  dust  will  be  here  in  bar- 
ren Alkedema  until  God  calls  time  on  the  world !  No 
vandal's  hand  will  bother  thee.  All  who  go  this  way 
will  pause  with  a  feeling  of  revulsion  and  disgust; 
Friendless,  lost,  abandoned,  thou  hast  gone  down  the 
valley  of  darkness.  While  the  judge  crowns  Peter 
for  his  martyrdom  and  John  for  his  life  long  love 
he  will  reward  thee  for  thy  treachery  and  suicide. 
What  a  scene  that  judging  time  will  be !  The  men 
thou  didst  help  will  have  no  sympathy  for  thee  and 
in  hell  the  devils  and  the  damned  will  sneer  at  thee 
while  across  the  great  gulf  in  the  city  of  God  an- 
gels will  welcome  thy  comrades  to  everlasting  peace. 

Another  thought  came  to  me  in  this  dark  place. 
It  somewhat  crowded  out  my  condemnation  of 
Judas.  If  he  fell  from  the  place  he  held  I  may  fall 
from  mine.  Who  is  exempt  from  hell's  assaults  or 
proof  against  its  alluring  lead?  May  God  help  us 
to  be  true,  and  if  we  can  never  do  great  deeds  for 
Christ  help  us  not  to  sell  our  rock-ribbed  loyalty 
for  any  glittering  bribe.  Some  men  say  they  hold 
aloft  from  Christ  and  the  church  because  of  the 
hypocrites  that  are  among  his  people,  but  somehow 
more  than  ever  that  day  as  I  reviewed  the  career 
of  Judas  on  the  ground  where  it  was  enacted  there 
came  a  stronger  band  about  my  soul  that  bound  me 
to  my  Lord  because  of  his  failure.  If  your  mother 
had  two  sons  and  your  brother  brought  the  family 


316  TRAVELS   IN    THE   OLD   WORLD 

in  disgrace  and  sorrow  to  her  grave  after  a  life  of 
vileness  and  shame,  would  you  leave  the  bent  form 
of  your  weeping  and  broken-hearted  mother  at  the 
grave  and  go  off  to  disown  her  because  of  the  sin 
that  was  in  your  family?  Wouldn't  you  rather 
put  your  arm  about  her  broken-hearted  form,  kiss 
her  weeping  face  and  say,  "Mother,  your  other  son 
has  disgraced  you  and  broken  your  heart,  but  I  will 
stick  to  you  closer  and  love  you  better  because  of 
it."  I  felt  like  saying  something  like  that  to  my 
Saviour  as  I  stood  by  the  Field  of  Blood. 

Just  below  the  Field  of  Blood  is  the  valley  of  Hin- 
nom  from  which  comes  the  words  Gehenna  and  hell. 
Jerusalem  represented  heaven  and  the  valley  of  Hin- 
nom  represented  hell.  Into  this  valley  the  garbage 
and  filth  of  Jerusalem  was  dumped,  and  set  on  fire. 
Here,  also,  the  offal  from  the  slaughter  pens  nearby 
was  thrown.  The  fires  never  went  out  here.  The 
worms  died  not  but  ever  preyed  upon  the  putrifying 
mass.  The  wild  dogs  and  jackalls  came  up  in  the 
night  with  their  hungry  howls  and  gleaming  eyes 
seeking  prey.  This  was  in  outer  darkness  for  the 
valley  is  deep  and  no  light  shone  save  the  fires 
that  smouldered  and  sent  up  the  awful  odors  to- 
ward the  skies.  In  this  valley  was  inaugurated 
the  worship  of  Moloch.  In  the  arms  of  a  great  iron 
god  made  hollow  so  internal  fires  could  heat  it  as  a 
stove  the  people  placed  their  little  children. 

These  things  account  for  the  references  Jesus 
made  to  the  home  of  lost  souls.  Hell  was  to  be  the 
dumping  place  of  all  the  filth  and  vileness  of  the 
Universe.    Everything  that  was  not  fit  for  heaven 


TRAVELS   IN   THE  OLD  WORLD  317 

would  be  cast  into  it,  and  set  on  fire.  If  Russel  or 
anybody  else  can  get  any  consolation  from  the  con- 
templation of  such  an  eternal  abode  they  surely 
have  accomodating  minds.  I  could  but  notice  how 
fitting  it  was  that  the  Hill  of  Evil  Council  and  the 
Field  of  Blood  should  be  so  close  to  Gehenna. 

Our  journey  around  the  city  walls  carried  us  by 
the  village  of  Siloam  and  the  pool  of  that  name 
where  Jesus  made  the  blind  man  go  and  wash  that 
he  might  receive  his  sight.  Also  we  made  stops 
at  the  Virgin's  fountain,  the  tomb  of  Zecheriah  and 
St.  James,  reputed  to  be  the  burial  places  of  these 
distinguished  characters.  Not  far  from  these  we 
came  to  the  pillar  of  Absalom,  a  rather  imposing, 
yet  gloomy  looking,  monument.  This  is  supposed  to 
be  the  grave  where  Absalom  was  buried  and  when 
the  natives  pass  by  they  usually  spit  at  it  and  throw 
stones  at  it  to  show  their  contempt  for  a  son  who 
treated  his  father  so.  Now  and  then  the  piles  of 
stones  cast  about  the  tomb  become  so  great  they 
have  to  be  cleared  away.  Near  this  tomb  is  the  tomb 
of  Jehosaphat  where  the  good  king  is  supposed  to 
be  buried.  From  this  fact  comes  the  name  of  the 
valley. 

We  left  our  donkeys  outside  and  made  a  visit  to 
Solomon's  quarries.  The  entrance  is  not  large  and 
one  would  never  think  of  the  marvelous  scheme 
of  this  underground  work.  There  seems  to  be  no 
end  to  the  caverns  and  tunnels  which  the  workmen 
of  the  great  King  Solomon  dug  under  the  city. 
Some  of  them  open  into  large  rooms  which  are  very 
high.    It  is  said  the  full  extent  of  these  underground 


318  TRAVELS  IN   THE   OLD  WORLD 

passages  has  been  explored  by  very  few,  if  anybody, 
and  much  of  their  regions,  is  unknown.  Here  is 
where  the  stones  were  secured  for  the  building  of 
the  Temple,  and  all  the  stones  were  quarried  so  that 
in  putting  them  together  there  was  heard  no  sound 
of  instruments.  The  stone  is  light  gray  granite, 
almost  white  and  everywhere  is  seen  the  signs  of 
the  workmen's  hands,  where  the  stones  were  hewn 
out  and  in  many  places  half  finished  stones  are 
found. 

The  whole  earth  under  Jerusalem  seems  to  be  filled 
with  this  stone. 

When  the  force  of  Solomon's  workmen  was  at 
work  getting  out  these  stones,  bringing  them  up  the 
incline  to  the  entrance  and  conveying  them  to  the 
temple  grounds  it  must  have  been  a  wonderful 
sight.  We  visited  a  Masonic  lodge  in  one  of  these 
caverns. 

A  visit  to  the  Jews'  Wailing  Place  brought  strange 
feelings  and  made  lasting  impressions  on  all  of  us. 
There  is  not  a  more  touching  place  in  or  about  Jeru- 
salem than  this  place  where  the  Jews  come  to  shed 
their  tears,  sing  their  songs  of  lamentations  and 
pray  to  the  God  of  their  fathers.  There  are  those 
who  see  in  this  nothing  but  an  exhibition  of  cere- 
monial ritualism,  but  it  did  not  seem  so  to  me  as  I 
looked  upon  it.  There  may  have  been  a  few  in  the 
crowd  that  day  who  were  there  just  from  custom 
or  because  of  other  reasons  than  sincere  devotions, 
but  the  large  majority  of  them  seemed  to  me  to 
be  pouring  out  of  hungry  and  sick  hearts  sincere 
lamentations  and  prayers.    It  was  a  sad  sight.    An 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  319 

hour  in  which  there  was  no  note  of  rejoicing,  naught 
of  peace  in  any  heart,  and  no  smile  on  any  face, 
and  is  it  not  a  sad  hour  for  any  people  when  their 
worship  comes  to  that? 

The  wailing  place  is  just  inside  the  city  beside  an 
old  wall  of  the  ancient  city  which  is  said  to  be  a 
part  of  the  original  wall  of  Solomon's  temple.  It 
is  the  beginning  of  the  Temple  Area,  now  held  by  the 
Turks  who  will  not  let  a  Jew  pass  over  the  ground. 
Their  fathers  used  to  worship  there.  Their  incense 
went  up  on  the  air  to  their  God.  Their  songs  went 
wide  and  sweet  upon  the  winds.  Their  prayers  in 
streams  flowed  heavenward  in  the  good  days  of 
Israel's  glory  and  now  the  heathen  Turks  will  not 
let  them  enter  the  grounds.  So  they  come  here  every 
day,  but  in  large  numbers  on  Friday  and  mourn 
and  pray,  kissing  the  stones  and  placing  their  fore- 
heads against  them.  When  we  were  there  they  were 
chanting  like  a  solemn  dirge  the  words  of  Isaiah 
64:9-11,  "Be  not  wroth  very  sore  0  Lord,  neither 
remember  iniquity  forever;  behold  we  beseech  thee 
we  are  all  thy  people.  Thy  holy  cities  are  a  wil- 
derness, Zion  is  a  wilderness,  Jerusalem  is  a  deso- 
lation. Our  holy  and  beautiful  house  where  our 
fathers  praised  thee  is  burned  up  with  fire  and  all 
our  pleasant  things  are  laid  waste." 

They  repeat  other  such  expressions  equally  as  sad 
and  mournful  from  the  major  and  minor  prophets. 
Psalms  and  lamentations  are  poured  forth  from 
their  lips  with  tones,  manner  and  looks  of  the  most 
intense  interest.  Some  of  them  seem  to  be  going 
through  severe  internal  sufferings. 


320  TRAVELS  IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

How  history  and  prophecy  rolled  down  upon  us 
at  this  sad  place  that  evening.  For  everywhere  you 
go  in  Palestine  you  are  impressed  with  the  literal 
fulfillment  of  the  prophecies.  The  glory  of  Israel 
had  departed,  and  her  beautiful  land  laid  waste. 
These  Jews  were  coming  back  to  Jerusalem,  the  city 
of  their  fathers,  and  praying  for  restoration  of 
their  greatness  and  were  trying  to  reoccupy  Pales- 
tine. What  a  great  thing  it  would  be  for  them  to 
accept  the  Lord  they  rejected  and  then  claim  the 
Promises  of  God! 

The  day  was  drawing  to  a  close  and  we  made  our 
way  back  to  our  hotel  feeling  that  it  had  been  a 
day  of  peculiar  interest  and  pleasure.  It  being 
sometime  till  supper,  Williams  and  myself  walked 
out  about  the  Joppa  Gate  to  study  the  life  we  saw 
there.  The  usual  amount  of  begging  and  trading 
was  going  on.  Almost  every  stand  was  supplied 
with  stale  bread  and  watermelon  seed  which  were 
bought  by  the  poor  people  for  some  miserable-look- 
ing pennies.  Upon  these  they  made  their  meal. 
Four  Bedowen  had  partaken  of  this  poor  meal  and 
were  sitting  down  upon  the  ground  talking.  They 
were  children  of  the  hills,  shepherds  of  a  few  sheep, 
roamers  far  and  wide.  They  had  come  into  the  city 
on  some  mission,  and  like  we  were  doing  had  come 
to  the  gate  with  the  crowd  to  take  a  little  interest 
in  life.  They  were  rough-looking  men  and  they  were 
unkempt  and  dirty,  yet  their  faces  were  friendly 
and  their  eyes  were  kind.  Three  seemed  to  be 
happy  and  one  sad.  It  was  easier  to  guess  reasons 
for  the  sadness  of  the  one  than  it  was  for  the  happi- 


o 
cr 
5 


Garden  of  Gethsemene. 


The  Walls  of  Jerusalem. 


TRAVELS   IN   THE  OLD  WORLD  321 

ness  of  the  three.     The  three  were  busy  trying  to 
cheer  up  the  sad  one.    They  laughed  at  him,  slapped 
him  on  the  back,  called  his  attention  to  everything 
of  interest  in  sight.     They  told  him  stories  and 
laughed  at  them  themselves,  but  the  sad  man  did 
not  laugh,  nor  did  he  smile.    He  did  not  even  look 
up  or  take  any  interest  in  what  was  going  on.     I 
was  thinking  their  mission  to  the  city  was  in  some 
way  in  behalf  of  their  troubled  friend.     We  could 
not,  of  course,  understand  anything  they  said,  but 
we  could  read  the  meaning  of  what  was  going  on. 
We  had  watched  them  with  much  interest  because 
there  was  much  of  human  life  in  the  picture.    I  was 
standing  near  them  with  some  smoked  glasses  in 
my  hand.    The  sun  was  sinking  over  the  Holy  Hills 
and  throwing  the  beams  of  its  good-night  upon  the 
city.    The  light  was  soft,  the  glare  was  gone,  and 
I  had  removed  the  glasses  which  all  travelers  must 
wear  to  keep  the  glare  of  the  sun  from  burning 
out  their  eyes.    One  of  the  men  saw  the  glasses  in 
my  hand  and  called  the  attention  of  the  troubled 
one  to  it.    They  all  then  began  to  talk  to  him  about 
me  and  they  became  so  interested  they  stood  up 
and  came  nearer.     One  of  them  reached  forth  his 
hand  for  the  glasses.     I  gave  them  to  him  and  he 
put  them  on  the  eyes  of  his  troubled  friend,  and  as 
he  did,  I  saw  the  cause  of  the  man's  sadness.    His 
eyes  were  red  and  water  was  running  from  them. 
One  of  the  great  curses  of  the  land,  blindness  was 
pressing  down  upon  him.     From  constant  contact 
with  the  burning  sun  and  glare  of  rock  and  sand 
as  he  looked  after  his  sheep,  with  no  protection 
for  his  eyes  he  was  going  blind. 


822  TRAVELS  IN   THE   OLD  WORLD 

When  he  put  the  glasses  on  he  looked  over  the 
hills  of  his  fathers  toward  the  sunset.  His  friends 
were  speaking  to  him.  From  his  troubled  face  the 
shadows  were  passing  and  in  his  red,  sad  eyes  a 
new  light  was  shining.  One  of  the  men  reached 
forth  his  hand  and  took  mine,  giving  it  a  vigorous 
shake.  He  then  took  the  hand  of  his  afflicted 
friend  and  put  it  in  mine,  the  while  making  signs 
and  speaking  in  his  native  tongue.  I  understood 
it  all.  He  wanted  the  glasses  for  his  afflicted  friend 
thinking  this  invention  of  Western  civilization  would 
have  magic  power  to  save  the  poor  man's  eyes. 
Perhaps  his  friends  had  come  with  him  to  Jerusa- 
lem to  seek  some  aid  for  their  friend  in  his  afflic- 
tion. I  shook  the  man's  hand  and  also  the  hand  of 
his  friend,  which  according  to  the  custom  of  the 
country  was  sealing  the  bargain  in  the  presence  of 
a  witness  that  I  had  given  him  the  glasses.  He 
went  his  way  rejoicing  in  his  gift  and  hoping  it 
would  save  his  eyes.  I  went  my  way  feeling  happy 
that  I  had  had  the  privilege  of  taking  part  in  such 
a  little  act  of  kindness  at  the  historic  Joppa  gate. 
But  my  mind  turned  back  to  the  one  who  used  to 
pass  in  the  gates  of  the  city  and  when  he  saw 
such  poor  afflicted  eyes  he  touched  them  with  his 
fingers  and  spoke  a  word  to  them,  bringing  to  them 
the  blessing  of  sight.  Oh  that  he  were  here  to-day 
to  bring  the  same  help  to  the  many  eyes  this  glare 
was  burning  out.  And.  then  there  came  the  thought 
that  our  poor,  blind  souls  coming  to  Him  receive 
sisrht  and  see  the  blessings  of  forgiveness,  peace 


TRAVELS  IN  THE  OLD  WORLD  323 

and  everlating  life.     So  we  went  to  our  supper 
from  the  Joppa  gate  singing: 

Amazing  grace,  how  sweet  the  sound 

That  saved  a  wretch  like  me ; 
I  once  was  lost,  but  now  I'm  found, 

Was  blind  but  now  I  see. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

ON  THE  SITE  OF  THE  TEMPLE. 

Our  hotel  life  in  Jerusalem  was  the  most  home- 
like of  any  we  found.  By  this  time  in  our  journeys 
we  had  begun  to  feel  like  a  big  family,  and  some- 
how the  other  tourists  at  the  hotel  were  of  the  same 
mind.  So  our  fellowship  was  very  pleasant.  Our 
dragoman,  Philip,  and  his  faithful  brothers  left  un- 
done nothing  that  would  add  to  out*  comfort  and 
the  hotel  authorities  were  as  thoughtful,  kind  and 
attentive  as  they  could  be.  The  waiters  were  un- 
usually attentive  to  us,  so  much  so  that  one  day  at 
our  table  we  raised  a  tip  for  our  boy.  He  was 
a  pathetic  .  looking  Armenian  who  seemed  to  feel 
that  his  standing  on  earth  and  Heaven  would  be  de- 
termined by  his  attention  to  his  table.  When  the 
boy  received  the  tip  he  went  to  the  chief  waiter 
with  that  matter.  The  chief  waiter  came  to  us  at 
once  and  informed  us  the  boy  would  have  to  return 
the  money  or  be  dismissed  from  the  hotel,  for  the 
rule  of  the  management  was  that  no  tips  were  to 
be  accepted  by  any  employee.  This  was  a  new  thing 
under  the  sun  to  be  found  in  hotels,  and  we  felt  like 
taking  off  our  hats  to  the  Hotel  Fast,  and  yet  we 
were  sorry  for  the  poor  boy  who  wanted  the  money, 
and  no  doubt  needed  it. 

The  water  we  drank  was  very  good  but  hard  to 
get.  They  seemed  to  be  stingy  with  it,  as  they  are 
everywhere,  and  well  they  might.  Still  when  we 
demanded  it  we  got  it  in  such  quanities  as  we 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  325 

wanted.  It  is  hard  for  the  people  to  understand 
the  thirst  Americans  have  for  water.  They  drink 
very  little,  perhaps  the  main  reason  is  that  it  is  so 
scarce  and  hard  to  get.  It  is  much  easier  to  get 
wine  than  water.  One  day  I  asked  the  hotel  man 
where  his  supply  of  water  came  from.  He  told  me 
to  come  down  to  the  entrance  the  next  morning  at 
six  if  I  was  up,  and  he  would  show  me.  That  morn- 
ing a  company  of  Arab  girls  came  up  the  Bethle- 
hem Road  by  the  Joppa  gate  with  large  stone  water 
pitchers  on  their  heads.  These  pitchers  seem  to 
hold  four  or  five  gallons,  and  they  keep  the  water 
cool  and  fresh  for  a  long  time.  The  girls  filed  into 
the  hotel  and  putting  down  their  burdens  received 
their  pay  of  a  few  pennies,  and  went  on  their  home- 
ward way.  The  hotel  man  informed  us  this  water 
came  from  a  cool,  pure  spring  near  Bethlehem. 
Think  of  girls  carrying  water  on  their  heads  in 
huge  pitchers  for  six  miles!  When  I  learned  that 
I  was  ashamed  that  I  had  been  such  a  pig  as  to 
demand  so  much  of  it  to  drink. 

All  over  Palestine  we  saw  the  women  and  the 
girls  on  those  long  journeys  with  their  water  jars, 
carrying  water  home.  We  also  saw  hundreds  of 
men  carrying  water,  but  they  were  carrying  it  in 
goat  skins.  It  is  considered  a  gross  breech  of  con- 
duct for  a  man  to  carry  a  pitcher.  Thus  when  Jesus 
sent  the  disciples  to  find  the  ass  upon  which  he 
would  ride  into  Jerusalem  he  told  them  to  follow 
a  man  whom  they  would  see  carrying  a  pitcher. 
Had  he  said  "bottle"  they  would  have  been  confused, 
as  they  would  doubtless  see  a  large  number  carry- 


326  TRAVELS  IN  THE  OLD  WORLD 

ing  these  skin  bottles,  but  when  he  said  pitcher  it 
was  clear,  for  it  would  be  so  unusual  to  see  a  man 
carrying  a  pitcher  that  it  would  attract  much  at- 
tention, since  it  was  likely  the  only  such  case  they 
would  see. 

It  was  a  mystery  to  me  how  they  got  the  skin 
off  the  goats  without  so  far  as  you  could  see  any 
rent  in  the  hide.  The  head  and  the  feet  were  cut 
off  and  thongs  of  hide  tied  to  them,  and  these 
thrown  over  the  shoulders.  The  neck  or  a  leg  was 
used  as  a  mouth  to  let  the  water  out.  I  thought 
they  scared  the  goat  so  he  jumped  out.  The  most 
of  these  carriers  of  skins  of  water  seemed  not  to 
be  carrying  it  for  family  use,  but  for  sale  to  public 
places  or  on  the  street  by  the  glass.  We  saw  a  great 
many  of  these  goatskins  and  once  we  saw  a  man 
selling  water  on  the  street  in  a  dogskin.  No,  I 
didn't  drink  from  this  bottle  ("not  as  I  knows  of," 
as  a  colored  witness  said  to  the  court),  and  don't 
know  how  it  was,  but  those  who  knew  said  it  was 
fine.    There  seemed  to  be  a  great  demand  for  it. 

We  spent  part  of  the  hours  in  the  evening  and 
during  the  mid-day  hours  when  it  was  too  hot  for 
much  travel  about  the  city  in  writing  postcards  and 
mailing  them  to  our  friends.  I  sent  about  five  hun- 
dred, mailing  one  into  every  home  in  my  church 
and  to  my  relatives  and  friends.  These  cards,  beau- 
tiful souvenirs  of  Palestine,  cost  us  seventy  cents 
a  hundred,  and  the  postage  when  less  than  five 
words  were  used  was  a  cent  and  a  quarter  (one 
matelick) ,  which  made  the  card  delivered  to  friends 
at  home  cost  a  fraction  less  than  two  cents. 


TRAVELS  IN   THE  OLD  WORLD  327 

The  visit  to  the  temple  area  is  always  of  peculiar 
interest  to  every  Christian  traveler.  The  section 
occupied  by  Solomon's  Temple,  courts  and  chambers 
connected  therewith  occupied  a  plot  of  thirty-seven 
acres  in  the  most  commanding  section  of  the  city. 
The  temple  stood  in  the  center  of  this  section  and 
faced  Olivet  and  the  sun  rise.  To  picture  the  glories 
and  splendor  of  this  temple  and  its  surroundings 
in  the  time  of  Solomon  is  beyond  the  power  of 
man  to  grasp.  We  visited  the  temple  area  early  in  the 
morning  and  took  our  time  going  over  the  sacred 
ground  and  thinking  of  the  history  that  was  made 
here  in  gold  and  glory  and  blood  and  fire.  What 
spot  on  earth  has  witnessed  over  and  over  such  a 
train  of  mighty  events?  Its  first  history  comes  to 
us  from  that  pathetic  chapter  in  the  life  of  Abra- 
ham when  God  ordered  him  to  take  his  son  Isaac 
(Gen.  22)  and  take  him  to  Mt.  Moriah  and  offer 
him  as  a  sacrifice.  The  home  of  Abraham  was  then 
several  miles  to  the  south.  He  came  to  Moriah 
which  the  main  authorities  of  Bible  History  now 
agree  was  here  in  Jerusalem  and  was  the  crest  of 
the  hill  upon  which  the  temple  of  Israel  was  destined 
to  stand.  God  had  a  plan  and  purpose  in  these 
strange  events  which  are  well  worth  our  careful 
thought  and  meditation. 

Isaac  was  the  only  son  of  Abraham.  In  a  pecu- 
liar sense  Abraham,  the  father,  stood  for  God  our 
Father,  and  Isaac,  the  son,  represented  Christ  the 
Son.  Abraham  took  his  only  son  to  Mt.  Moriah 
and  was  in  the  act  of  sacrificing  him  to  his  God 
when  he  was  ordered  to  stay  his  hand.    This  was  on 


328  TRAVELS   IN    THE   OLD   WORLD 

the  very  spot  where  for  centuries  the  sacrifices  of 
Israel  would  be  offered.  All  these  things  pointed  to 
the  time  when  Christ  would  die  on  the  hill  of  Cal- 
vary a  few  leagues  away.  God  would  allow  His  son 
Jesus  to  be  offered  up  as  the  fulfillment  of  all  pro- 
phecies and  accomplish  the  salvation  of  all  who 
henceforth  had  faith  in  His  blood. 

The  next  mention  we  find  of  the  temple  site  is 
in  2  Sam.  24.  It  is  now  called  "The  threshing  floor 
of  Arauiiah  the  Jebusite."  God  tells  David  to  go  to 
Araunah  and  buy  this  spot  for  an  altar.  David  did 
so  and  built  there  an  altar  unto  the  Lord  and  of- 
fered burnt  offerings  and  peace  offerings  and  called 
upon  the  name  of  the  Lord  and  he  answered  him 
by  fire.  1  Chr.  21 :26.  Then  David  said,  "This  is 
the  house  of  the  Lord  God  and  this  is  the  altar  of 
burnt  offering  for  Israel."  1  Chr.  22 :1.  This  settles 
beyond  question  the  fact  that  King  David,  who  in- 
structed Solomon  as  to  the  building  of  the  temple, 
also  selected  the  place  and  he  did  it  not  of  his 
own  fancy,  but  by  the  order  of  God.  This  thresh- 
ing floor  is  declared  to  be  the  site  where  Isaac  was 
to  have  been  offered. 

The  first  temple  that  ever  stood  here  was  Solo- 
mon's Temple,  the  first  permanent  dwelling  place  of 
God  among  the  people  after  the  Tabernacle  passed 
away.  The  active  work  of  building  was  eight  years. 
The  principle  material  was  rock  from  the  quarries 
under  the  city,  cedars  from  Lebanon  and  gold,  sil- 
ver, brass  and  cypress  from  Tyre.  Large  numbers 
of  the  most  skilled  workmen  to  be  secured  in  the 
world  were  busy  bringing  to  completion  this  the 


TRAVELS  IN  THE  OLD  WORLD  329 

most  wonderful  building  of  the  world.  The  height 
of  the  temple  was  two  hundred  feet.  Its  body  was 
of  white  granite.  The  floor  and  the  roof  were  of 
gold.  Its  pillars  were  of  brass  (hollow),  two  of 
them  were  twenty-seven  feet  and  their  circumfer- 
ence sixteen  feet.  The  altar  was  of  brass.  For  the 
temple  service  there  were  twenty  thousand  silver 
cups  and  forty  thousand  of  gold,  and  ten  thousand 
golden  candlesticks.  There  were  also  eighty  thou- 
sand vessels  for  water  for  purifying;  one  hundred 
thousand  golden  vials  and  twice  as  many  of  silver; 
also  eighty  thousand  golden  dishes  for  kneading 
flour  and  twice  as  many  made  of  silver.  Of  large 
basins  for  mixing  unleavened  bread  there  were 
sixty  thousand  of  gold  and  twice  as  many  of  silver. 
The  golden  censors  for  carrying  incense  to  the  altars 
were  twenty  thousand  and  those  for  carrying  fire 
from  the  altar  were  fifty  thousand.  The  garments 
of  the  priests  were  of  white  and  covered  with  a 
thousand  precious  stones.  There  were  ten  thousand 
pretty  garments  of  fine  linen,  two  hundred  thousand 
trumpets  and  as  many  white  robes  for  the  choir 
of  singers.  What  was  it  to  hear  the  music  of 
such  a  choir?  This  gives  but  a  faint  glimpse  of  a 
part  of  the  glories  of  Solomon's  temple.  Critics 
have  said  there  was  a  far  too  free  use  of  gold  and 
silver,  but  we  must  remember  in  those  days  it  was 
not  money  but  "goods"  and  the  supply  was  great 
and  it  was  all  in  the  hands  of  a  very  few  who  alone 
could  use  it. 

What  a  picture  this  temple  must  have  presented 
to  the  view  of  all  the  surrounding  hills  as  the  morn- 


330  TRAVELS  IN   THE   OLD  WORLD 

ing  sun  rose  over  Olivet  and  shot  its  shining  rays 
upon  its  walls  of  white  and  domes  of  gold !  Or  sink- 
ing behind  the  hills  of  Judea  it  threw  upon  all  that 
marshalled  glory  the  soft  light  of  a  dying  day! 
Travelers  coming  from  afar  could  behold  the  vision. 
On  the  banks  of  the  River  Jordan  and  the  shores  of 
the  Dead  Sea  over  twenty  miles  away  people  could 
see  the  white  temple  and  crown  of  gold  shining  in 
the  sun.  From  far  and  wide  pilgrims  and  caravans 
as  well  as  shepherds  who  watched  their  flocks  would 
rest  on  a  hill  and  shade  their  eyes  with  their  hands 
as  they  gazed  on  the  glories  of  Israel  there  upon  the 
hill  and  in  their  hearts  longed  to  realize  their  high- 
est hopes  and  stand  within  its  courts. 

The  dedication  of  Solomon's  temple  was  an  event 
of  such  magnificence  and  display  that  it  has  never 
been  equalled  in  the  annals  of  the  nations.  People 
came  in  multitudes  from  all  parts  of  Israel's  do- 
mains and  there  was  hardly  room  to  pitch  another 
tent  on  any  hill  around.  The  Bible  tells  us  Solomon 
used  as  sacrifices  one  hundred  and  twenty  thousand 
sheep  and  twenty-two  thousand  oxen.  The  blood 
from  such  a  multitude  of  slaughtered  victims  must 
have  run  like  a  river  down  the  Kedron  Valley.  That 
much  meat  on  the  markets  to-day  would  sell  for 
about  twelve  million  dollars.  There  are  those  who 
think  these  numbers  too  high  and  yet  in  the  days 
of  Israel's  highest  wealth  and  prosperity  it  is  not 
at  all  unreasonable  to  suppose  the  people  could  have 
secured  from  their  pastures  as  many  sheep  and 
oxen,  and  that  so  many  priests  in  several  days  could 
sacrifice  them.    It  must  have  made  a  wonderful  im- 


TRAVELS  IN   THE  OLD  WORLD  331 

pression  on  the  people  of  Israel  to  see  all  these 
slaughtered  victims  and  the  blood  that  was  flowing 
and  feel  that  it  in  some  strange  way  represented  a 
sacrifice  God  would  make  to  save  their  souls. 

The  prayer  of  dedication  delivered  by  Solomon 
ranks  as  the  longest  and  one  of  the  most  eloquent 
and  touching  prayers  in  all  literature.  The  Lord 
was  surely  near  the  king  when  with  uplifted  hands 
he  prayed.  Standing  near  the  spot  where  he  must 
have  been  with  the  Bible  in  my  hand  the  last  sen- 
tence of  that  prayer  came  so  clear  to  my  soul  that 
I  could  almost  hear  the  voice  of  the  king  ringing 
over  the  hills.  "If  they  sin  against  thee  (and  there 
is  no  man  that  sinneth  not)  and  thou  be  angry 
with  them  and  deliver  them  in  the  hand  of  the 
enemy,  far  off  or  near;  yet  if  they  shall  bethink 
themselves  in  the  land  whither  they  are  carried 
captive,  and  turn  again  and  make  supplication  unto 
thee  in  the  land  of  them  that  carried  them  captive, 
saying,  'We  have  sinned  and  have  done  perversely, 
we  have  dealt  wickedly  f  if  they  turn  unto  thee  with 
all  their  heart  and  with  all  their  soul  in  the  land  of 
their  enemies,  who  carried  them  captive,  and  pray 
unto  thee  toward  their  land,  which  thou  gavest  unto 
their  fathers,  the  city  which  thou  hast  chosen  and 
the  house  which  I  have  built  for  thy  name,  then  hear 
thou  their  prayer,  and  their  supplication  in  heaven 
thy  dwelling  place  and  maintain  their  cause;  and 
forgive  thy  people  who  have  sinned  against  thee 
and  all  their  transgressions  wherein  they  have 
transgressed  against  thee;  and  give  them  compas- 
sion before  those  who  carried  them  captive  that  they 


332  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD  WORLD 

may  have  compassion  on  them  (for  they  are  thy 
people  and  thine  inheritance  which  thou  broughtest 
forth  out  of  Egypt  from  the  midst  of  the  furnace 
of  iron) ;  that  thine  eyes  may  be  open  unto  the  sup- 
plication of  thy  servant  and  unto  the  supplication 
of  thy  people  Israel  to  hearken  unto  them  when- 
soever they  cry  unto  thee;  for  thou  didst  separate 
them  from  among  all  the  people  of  the  earth,  to 
be  thine  inheritance,  as  thou  spakest  to  Moses  thy 
servant  when  thou  broughtest  our  fathers  out  of 
Egypt,  0  Lord  God."    1  Kings  8 :46-53. 

It  would  be  hard  to  find  a  more  touching  and 
thrilling  prayer  anywhere.  It  must  have  greatly  ef- 
fected the  great  concourse  of  people.  Does  it  not 
seem  from  the  tone  of  the  great  king's  prayer  his 
soul  had  in  a  sweep  of  prophecy  seen  a  vision  of 
the  time  when  his  people  would  forsake  their  God 
and  be  scattered  over  the  world  while  the  glory  he 
now  beheld  would  be  blown  away  on  the  winds  ? 

I  could  but  feel  deep  in  my  soul  the  contrast  be- 
tween those  days  of  Solomon  and  now.  There  came 
a  time  when  Israel's  glory  was  departed  and  not  a 
vestige  of  her  greatness  left  behind.  Her  proud 
priests  and  prophets  were  led  away  in  chains;  her 
fair  daughters  sold  in  the  market  as  slaves;  her 
children  dashed  to  pieces  on  the  rocks;  her  temple 
prostrated  in  the  dust;  her  sacred  vessels  bartered 
for  merchandise.  Unhallowed  feet  of  an  alien  race 
walked  in  her  Holy  of  Holies  where  once  the  High 
Priest  of  God  went  to  pray  for  the  sins  of  the  peo- 
ple. Heathen  curses  rose  on  the  air  where  once  the 
sweet  insense  from  Israel's  altars  rose  on  the  winds 


TRAVELS  IN   THE  OLD  WORLD  333 

to  God.  In  the  courts  of  the  temple  where  the 
Jewish  maidens  once  sang  the  song  of  Miriam  arose 
the  heartrending  cry  of  the  souls  as  they  were 
borne  from  the  hills  they  loved  so  well  to  return 
again  no  more.  Over  to  Babylon  they  went  footsore, 
tired  and  weak  until  after  a  long  journey  they  sat 
down  by  the  river  of  Babylon  and  with  their  faces 
buried  in  their  hands  and  their  heads  between  their 
knees  they  wept  when  they  remembered  Zion, 
"Upon  the  willows  in  the  midst  thereof  we  hanged 
up  our  harps.  For  there  they  that  led  us  captive 
required  of  us  songs,  and  they  that  wasted  us  re- 
quired of  us  mirth,  saying,  'Sing  us  one  of  the 
songs  of  Zion/  How  shall  we  sing  the  Lord's  song 
in  a  strange  land  ?  Tf  I  forget  thee,  0  Jerusalem,  let 
my  right  hand  forget  her  cunning.  Let  my  tongue 
cleave  to  the  roof  of  my  mouth."  Ps.  137. 

No  they  couldn't  sing  the  Lord's  song  in  a  strange 
land.  The  day  of  their  singing  was  over  and  their 
harps  were  hung  up  forever.  Strange  people, 
lonely,  homeless  in  the  earth,  driven  from  among 
men,  persecuted,  oppressed  and  ridiculed,  they  have 
been  unwelcome  anywhere  but  have  gone  every- 
where. They  have  ceased  to  herd  sheep,  but  have 
hoarded  the  world's  gold.  Sneered  at  in  every  mart 
of  trade,  they  have  had  a  mighty  hand  in  the  com- 
merce of  the  earth.  They  are  a  byword  among  na- 
tions and  outlawed  from  social  circles  and  yet  their 
fathers  were  priests  and  prophets  in  the  service  of 
Jehovah  when  our  ancestors  were  naked  savages  in 
a  wilderness  that  knew  no  law.  All  of  this  was 
caused  by  sin,  that  fatal  scourge  that  has  wrought 


334  TRAVELS  IN   THE   OLD  WORLD 

its  havoc  and  desolation  in  the  earth  since  the  time 
it  broke  down  Eden's  garden  gate.  Everywhere 
you  turn  in  Palestine  you  see  the  literal  fulfillment 
of  the  prophecy  which  foretold  Israel's  doom,  be- 
cause of  their  sin. 

These  were  our  meditations  as  we  walked  about 
the  Mosque  of  Omar,  the  Turkish  temple,  that  now 
stands  on  the  site  of  the  wonderful  Temple  of  Solo- 
mon. It  gives  one  a  strange  feeling  to  see  these 
dirty  heathen  where  Israel's  glory  reigned.  They 
met  us  at  the  door  and  put  dirty,  germ-laden  slip- 
pers on  our  feet  to  keep  us  from  defiling  the  holy 
place.  This  mosque  is  one  of  the  most  noted  build- 
ings of  the  world,  not  only  on  account  of  its  location 
and  history,  but  also  on  account  of  its  construction. 
No  attempt  at  description  will  be  undertaken.  It  is 
gorgeous  and  gaudy  and  imposing.  The  windows 
were  designed  by  the  finest  expert  to  be  found  and 
tradition  goes  that  so  well  pleased  were  the  Turks 
with  his  work  and  so  fearful  were  they  that  he 
would  duplicate  it  somewhere  else  in  the  world  that 
they  had  him  killed. 

The  most  interesting  thing  in  and  about  the  place 
is  the  Rock  Moriah.  It  is  something  like  sixty  feet 
long,  fifty  feet  wide  and  ten  or  twelve  feet  high  at 
the  highest  point.  This  is  the  very  rock  on  the 
crest  of  Mt.  Moriah  where  the  uplifted  hand  of 
Abraham  was  ready  to  sacrifice  his  son.  On  this  rock 
was  Israel's  altar  and  here  the  blood  of  the  sacrifices 
ran  through  an  opening  in  the  rock  out  to  the 
Kedron  Valley.  On  this  rock  the  blood  of  Saracen 
and  Christian  has  flown  in  streams  as  they  slaugh- 


TRAVELS  IN   THE   OLD  WORLD  335 

tered  one  another  in  multitudes  and  piled  about  the 
sacred  place  their  mangled  bodies.  What  a  rock! 
What  a  history !  How  it  represents  that  Rock,  Christ 
Jesus!  All  through  history  God  speaks  of  a  Rock, 
solid,  great  and  mighty  upon  which  the  truth,  hope 
and  life  of  the  world  must  rest  and  on  which  men 
and  nations  must  build.  This  rock  has  been  wet 
with  the  blood  of  sacrifice.  Nearby  that  Great  Rock 
was  placed  on  Calvary  with  the  promise  that  the 
gates  of  hell  should  not  prevail  against  it.  What  a 
glorious  promise  this  is.  Enemies  have  prevailed 
against  Israel's  rock  of  law  and  sacrifice.  Solo- 
mon's Temple  was  swept  from  it.  Zerubbabel,  after 
years  of  toiling,  built  another  which  was  borne  off 
in  a  storm.  Herod  then  built  one  which  also  fell  a 
prey  to  enemies.  Now  for  many  centuries  the  Turks 
have  had  their  temple  here.  But  the  promise  comes 
to  us  that  no  enemy  can  sweep  the  Structure  of 
Truth  from  the  Solid  Rock.  As  long  as  our  faith 
rests  on  Him  we  are  safe. 

The  Lord's  our  Rock,  in  Him  we  hide, 

A  shelter  in  the  time  of  storm ; 

Secure  whatever  ill  betide, 

A  shelter  in  the  time  of  storm. 

0,  Jesus  is  a  Rock  in  a  weary  land, 

A  shelter  in  the  time  of  storm; 

Be  thou  our  helper  ever  near, 

A  shelter  in  the  time  of  storm ; 

0,  Jesus  *is  a  Rock  in  a  weary  land, 

A  shelter  in  the  time  of  storm. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  GETHSEMANE. 

"Choose  thee  out  a  cell 

In  Kedron's  storied  dell, 

Beside  the  streams  of  love  that  never  die ; 

Among  the  olives  kneel 

The  chill  night's  blast  to  feel, 

And  watch  the  moon  that  saw  thy  Master's  agony." 

We  visited  the  Garden  of  Gethsemane  more  than 
once  during  our  stay  of  several  days  in  Jerusalem, 
but  in  many  respects  the  most  impressive  visit  to 
me  was  that  made  by  a  few  of  us  at  night.  The 
moon  was  full  and  the  city  was  still.  It  seemed  to 
me  I  had  never  seen  such  light  from  the  moon.  It 
was  bright  and  soft  as  it  shone  through  the  clear 
Syrian  atmosphere  upon  the  white  limestone  rocks 
and  the  many  historic  spots  we  passed.  The  night 
was  enchanted  and  a  voice  seemed  to  call  from  the 
long  gone  ages  the  mighty  souls  who  had  lived  upon 
these  hills  and  was  marshalling  them  and  their  won- 
drous history  before  us.  We  met  them  in  the  road 
and  brushed  their  white  garments  on  the  way  that 
night  as  we  made  our  way  to  the  garden  gate. 

Almost  overcome  with  feelings  I  sat  upon  a  rock. 
Perhaps  there  upon  one  of  those  rocks  my  Savior 
fell  prostrate  as  with  breaking  heart  and  white  up- 
turned face  he  prayed  to  Heaven,  and  met  single 
handed  all  the  evil  spirits  of  earth  and  hell  and 
here  upon  the  world's  great  decisive  battlefield 
fought  to  set  our  souls  free  from  the  bondage  of 


TRAVELS  IN   THE  OLD  WORLD  837 

sin.  The  troubles  of  all  the  souls  of  earth  were 
pulling  his  tender  heartstrings.  The  weight  of  all 
the  hearts  of  earth  were  resting  on  his  tender  soul. 
To  add  to  his  cup  already  full  there  was  no  sympa- 
thetic voice  to  whisper  comfort,  and  no  friend's 
hand  to  hold  His  as  he  went  through  the  flood 
alone.  He  trod  the  wine  press  alone,  and  what  that 
awful  word  means  we  will  never  fully  know  until 
we  see  Him  face  to  face.  The  disciples  were  sleep- 
ing and  his  mother  was  gone.  His  was  a  bitter  lone- 
liness. There  is  a  loneliness  that  is  sweet  and  sooth- 
ing and  there  is  a  loneliness  that  breaks  the  heart 
and  crushes  the  soul.  Oh,  to  be  lonely  when  the 
heart  is  bleeding  and  the  soul  is  being  crucified  upon 
a  bitter  cross!  Then  the  cold,  trembling  hand 
reaches  out  in  the  dark  for  the  warm  clasp  of  the 
hand  of  a  friend ;  and  then  it  is  the  eyes  look  through 
the  shadows,  for  the  light  of  a  sympathetic  face. 
If  only  in  the  darkest  hours  of  trouble  we  could 
have  the  companionship  of  a  sympathetic  friend! 
But  so  often  the  hardest  battles  must  be  fought  in 
a  lonely  place  where  no  one  can  come  to  help. 

In  the  awful  hours  there  was  a  foot  fall  in  the 
Garden,  and  a  man  came  stealing  cautiously  through 
the  shadows  of  the  olive  trees.  It  was  one  of  his 
disciples.  Ah,  blessed  be  the  sight  of  a  friend  at 
a  time  like  that!  How  much  lighter  it  makes  the 
burden.  He  comes  to  the  prostrate  form  of  the 
suffering  Galilean  and  speaks  to  Him,  "Hail  Mas- 
ter." The  white  face  looks  up  at  the  man.  In  those 
eyes  shine  a  light  the  world  had  never  seen  before. 
It  was  the  light  of  a  Savior's  dying  love.     For  a 


338  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

moment  the  man  hesitated,  and  then  he  stooped  and 
kissed  that  white  face!  Ah!  beautiful  sight  of  ten- 
derness and  love !  How  sweet  is  the  kiss  of  a  friend 
in  the  Garden  of  Trouble !  How  comforting  to  know 
a  friend  will  seek  you  out  in  the  shadows  of  suffer- 
ing and  place  a  kiss  of  love  and  trust  upon  your 
face! 

Beautiful  act  did  I  say?  That  kiss  was  the  dark- 
est act  of  treacherous  infamy  ever  born  in  hell.  If 
in  all  the  annals  of  crimes  the  devil  has  found  one 
thing  to  be  ashamed  of  it  is  this !  It  was  the  trait- 
or's kiss  instead  of  the  kiss  of  a  friend T  It  came 
from  one  who  had  been  befriended  and  helped  by 
the  Savior.  Dark  is  the  night  when  the  hand  of  a 
friend  becomes  the  hand  of  an  enemy  and  thrusts  a 
dagger  into  the  trusting  heart  of  Love!  Awful 
hour  when  a  kiss,  that  seal  of  purity  and  trusting 
affection  has  behind  it  a  plot  of  shame  and  ruin! 
And  yet  how  many  faces  in  other  places  than  Geth- 
semane  have  received  the  kiss  they  thought  was 
love's  sweet  seal  only  to  learn  it  was  the  sign  of 
their  sale  by  the  traitor  they  trusted? 

How  that  kiss  burned  the  face  of  Christ  with  a 
fire  like  that  of  hell  itself!  Of  all  the  pains  and 
insults  heaped  upon  Him  this  was  the  worst  of  all, 
but  the  Savior  bore  it  without  a  word,  nor  did  he 
rub  off  that  burning  kiss.  Then  the  soldiers  came 
to  take  Him.  Cowards  of  perdition!  They  could 
not,  they  dared  not  do  it  in  the  day,  but  chose  the 
night  when  he  was  alone  and  the  city  was  asleep. 
A  whole  company  of  armed  soldiers  coming  to  take 
a  lone   meek  and   unarmed   Galilean!    Wonderful 


TRAVELS  IN   THE   OLD  WORLD  339 

bravery !  In  keeping  with  the  reputation  of  Roman 
heroism.  When  they  saw  his  upturned  face  they 
fell  back  in  confusion,  and  well  they  might!  He 
could  have  raised  His  eyes  to  heaven  for  help  and 
every  stone  in  Kedron's  Valley  would  have  been 
turned  to  a  soldier  to  defend  Him.  That  upturned 
face  would  have  made  the  Roman  Empire  tremble 
and  no  wonder  it  startled  them.  There  was  a  light 
in  that  face  they  had  never  seen  before.  There  was 
no  resistance  there  but  tenderness  and  love.  And 
oh,  what  marks  of  suffering!  Upon  the  white  fea- 
tures tricked  drops  of  blood  instead  of  sweat !  The 
agony  of  the  soul  had  broken  his  heart  and  His 
blood  was  running  out  through  the  pores  of  His 
skin.  The  sight  of  that  face  was  enough  to  startle 
anyone.  Then  the  unexpected  happened.  Peter 
who  with  James  and  John  had  been  asleep  instead 
of  keeping  friendly  watch  as  He  had  expected  of 
them,  roused  by  the  noise  of  their  intrusion  in  their 
sacred  haunt,  leaped  to  his  feet  with  his  sword  and 
single  handed  leaped  into  the  conflict  to  fight  all  the 
cohorts  of  Rome  and  defend  his  Lord.  Whatever 
blame  you  heap  on  Peter  for  sleeping,  and  later  de- 
nying his  Lord  and  being  unstable  and  impetous 
you  must  give  him  credit  for  a  bravery  that  few 
men  have.  It  may  be  poor  judgment  to  leap  single- 
handed  at  the  throat  of  Rome  for  unkindness  to  a 
friend,  but  surely  it  is  the  act  you  do  not  look  for 
in  a  coward.  But  the  Lord  ordered  the  sword  put 
up  and  even  stopped  to  heal  the  wound  that  was 
made,  and  ever  since  then  the  swords  that  have 
been  drawn  have  been  drawn  against  His  will.  Then 


840  TRAVELS  IK  THE  OLD  WORLD 

they  took  Him  in  the  night  and  led  him  away  from 
the  garden  he  loved,  to  come  back  to  it  no  more. 

Great  old  olive  trees  are  growing  in  the  garden 
and  they  are  very  old.  If  they  are  not  the  trees 
that  witnessed  the  Savior's  agony  surely  they  have 
grown  up  from  the  roots  of  the  ones  that  did.  It 
was  a  great  event  on  a  night  like  that — a  night  like 
the  one  when  He  was  here — to  see  the  moonlight 
shining  through  the  olives.  At  other  visits  we  read 
the  account  of  the  Lord's  agony  in  the  Gospels;  to- 
night we  meditated  and  prayed  while  running 
through  our  mind  were  the  words : 

"Into  the  woods  my  Master  went 

Clean  forspent,  forspent, 

Into  the  woods  my  Master  came 

Forspent  with  love  and  shame. 

But  the  olive  trees  were  not  blind  to  Him ; 

The  little  gray  leaves  were  kind  to  Him ; 

The  thorn  tree  had  a  mind  to  Him 

When  into  the  woods  He  came." 

Who  could  describe  the  feelings  on  a  visit  like 
that  to  Gethsemane?  Not  even  Calvary  touched  my 
soul  more  than  this.  Sweeter,  clearer,  stronger 
came  the  Master's  love  to  me  that  night.  And  the 
peace  that  was  in  my  heart  as  I  climbed  the  hill  to 
Hotel  Fast  was  softer  and  brighter  than  the  light 
of  the  moon  that  flooded  the  city  that  night.  There 
is  no  money  could  buy  the  great  privilege  of  that 
visit.  May  its  influence  ever  abide  in  my  soul,  and 
may  I  have  the  power  to  impart  some  of  it  to  others. 


TRAVELS  IN  THE  OLD  WORLD  841 

As  we  turned  from  the  garden  to  my  room,  my  soul 
was  singing  with  the  angels : 

"Paschall  lamb  by  God  appointed 
All  our  sins  on  thee  were  laid 
By  Almighty  Love  anointed 
Thou  hast  full   atonement  made. 
All  thy  people  are  forgiven 
Through  the  virtue  of  thy  blood 
Opened  is  the  gate  of  heaven ; 
Peace  is  made  'twixt  me  and  God." 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

BETHLEHEM  AND  HEBRON. 

"0  little  town  of  Bethlehem, 
How  still  we  see  thee  lie ; 
Above  thy  deep  and  dreamless  sleep 
The  silent  stars  go  by. 
Yet  in  thy  dark  streets  shineth 
The  everlasting  light, 
The  hopes  and  fears  of  all  the  years 
Are  met  in  the  night!" 

We  took  one  full  day  for  our  drive  to  Hebron. 
After  an  early  breakfast,  we  started  for  the  twenty- 
mile  drive  through  this  historic  Southern  border  of 
Palestine. 

Our  horses  turned  their  faces  across  the  valley 
of  Gihon  up  that  highway  toward  Bethlehem.  Oh, 
if  these  stones  and  hills  along  this  historic  road 
could  speak!  Who  could  they  tell  us  they  had  seen 
pass  along  the  way  our  horses  went?  Abraham, 
Isaac,  Jacob,  David,  Solomon  and  armies  too  many 
to  count.  Here  is  the  valley  of  Rephiam  where 
David  fought  the  Phillestines. 

Yonder  is  the  hill  where  old  Goliath  marched  up 
and  down  letting  off  steam  and  defying  Israel. 
David,  a  shepherd  lad,  came  down  to  bring  his 
brothers  food  and  taking  some  stones  from  the  brook 
yonder  he  dove  one  into  the  head  of  the  bragging 
giant  and  brought  his  proud  form  to  the  dust.  God 
uses  little  people  and  weak  instruments  to  lay  the 


TRAVELS  IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  343 

giants  low  every  day.  Better  throw  a  small  stone, 
guided  by  the  hand  of  God,  than  be  a  giant  with  a 
staff  like  a  weaver's  beam  and  blow  off  gas  for  the 
devil.  God  will  guide  our  feeble  efforts  and  make 
them  bring  down  the  giants  of  sin. 

Not  far  from  Jerusalem  we  passed  the  Leper  Hos- 
pital and  colony  where  the  poor  victims  of  that 
awful  disease  are  kept  until  they  die.  If  the  earth 
can  produce  a  more  horrible  sight  than  a  group  of 
lepers  I  know  not  where  it  would  be  found.  The 
sight  will  haunt  you  for  a  long  time.  What  a  power- 
ful truth  the  Bible  teaches  when  it  compares  sin  to 
leprosy?  It  is  contagious;  so  is  sin.  It  is  loath- 
some; so  is  sin.  It  starts  from  a  little  spot  and 
spreads  through  the  system  until  it  destroys  the 
entire  being;  so  does  sin.  It  separates  the  victim 
from  the  congregation,  friends  and  home;  so  does 
sin.  It  is  a  scourge  that  could  be  prevented;  so 
is  sin.  There  is  no  cure  outside  of  the  direct  hand 
of  God;  so  it  is  with  sin. 

They  came  to  us  begging  for  backsheesh,  holding 
up  stumps  for  hands,  and  crying  from  lips  and 
throats  half  destroyed  by  the  ravages  of  the  disease. 
Their  fingers,  hands,  ears,  noses,  eyes,  palates  and 
other  portions  of  their  bodies  were  eaten  away.  All 
stages  of  the  disease  were  in  evidence.  Some  were 
almost  to  the  point  where  death  would  bring  a  mer- 
ciful deliverance,  others  had  yet  a  long  seige  of 
suffering,  until  their  bodies  were  sufficiently  rotted 
away  for  the  disease  to  reach  the  vitals  and  end 
their  misery.  Long  will  we  remember  the  weird, 
pathetic  cries  from  half-destroyed  vocal  organs  and 


844  TRAVELS  IN   THE   OLD  WORLD 

the  diseased  hands  held  up  for  help.  There  was  a 
time  when  Jesus  walked  these  hills  and  with  a  look, 
a  word,  a  touch  cured  these  suffering  souls.  Thank 
God  for  the  thought  that  the  disease  of  sin  that 
wrecks  bodies  and  damns  souls  can  now  be  cured 
by  Him. 

Joseph  pointed  out  to  us  a  well  called  the  "well 
of  the  Maji,"  where  the  star  reappeared  to  the  wise 
men,  and  also  a  monestary  built  where  Elijah  slept 
when  fleeing  from  Jezebel.  At  least  these  are  spots 
which  tradition  ever  hungry  for  spots  and  places 
have  fixed  upon.  While  of  course  these  places  along 
with  many  others  pointed  out  are  perhaps  not  exact, 
yet  they  do  help  the  mind  and  heart  to  call  up  the 
great  events  that  did  occur  very  near  by.  The  well 
of  the  Maji  is  surely  near  the  spot  where  these 
strange  men  from  the  East  as  they  pursued  their 
journey  searching  for  the  newborn  Savior  saw 
their  guiding  star  returning  and  welcomed  it  again. 

And  if  this  monastery  is  not  on  the  exact  spot  it 
is  somewhere  near  here  that  Elijah  overcome  with 
exhaustion,  overwork  and  nervous  strain  fighting 
the  devil  single-handed  in  the  form  of  Jezebel, 
Ahab  and  Baal,  came  overwhelmed  with  despond- 
ency and  blues  and  God  sent  an  angel  to  find  Him 
and  put  him  to  sleep  like  a  loving  mother  would  a 
worn  out  child.  When  the  old  prophet  awoke  re- 
freshed, God  first  taught  him  that  in  our  zeal  we 
often  get  faster  and  more  violent  in  advancing  His 
kingdom  than  is  best.  Thunder,  lightning,  earth- 
quake and  fire  have  their  uses  in  the  kingdom  of 
God,  but  His  best  work  is  done  by  the  still  small 


TRAVELS  IN   THE   OLD  WORLD  345 

voice  of  the  Spirit.  When  God  gave  him  this  lesson 
he  sent  him  off  on  a  vacation  and  then  sent  him  to 
work  to  help  other  folks.  What  a  wonderful  treat- 
ment for  disordered  souls!  Communion  with  God, 
sleep,  food,  vacation  and  work. 

In  a  few  minutes  we  came  to  the  town  where 
Jesus  was  born.  To  the  left  of  us  lay  the  fields  of 
Boaz  now,  as  in  days  of  Ruth's  beautiful  story, 
full  of  harvest.  Here  the  Moabitess  Ruth  came  from 
miles  away  clinging  to  her  mother-in-law  with  those 
immortal  words  upon  her  lips,  "Entreat  me  not  to 
leave  thee  and  return  from  following  after  thee; 
for  whither  thou  goest,  I  will  go;  and  where  thou 
lodgest  I  will  lodge;  thy  people  shall  be  my  people 
and  thy  God  my  God;  where  thou  diest  will  I  die, 
and  there  will  I  be  buried.  The  Lord  do  so  to  me  and 
more  also  if  aught  but  death  part  thee  and  me." 
Ruth  1:16-18.  Thus  leaving  her  own  land  she 
joined  the  people  of  God  and  was  rewarded  by  be- 
coming an  ancestor  of  Jesus  Christ.  It  was  here 
on  these  plains, 

"While  shepherds  watched  their  flocks  by  night 
All  seated  on  the  ground, 
The  angel  of  the  Lord  came  down 
And  glory  shone  around." 

Little  Bethlehem  is  alive  with  history  of  the 
years.  To  the  right  of  Bethlehem  in  sight  was  the 
home  of  Saul.  Around  here  David  wrought  mightily 
and  drove  back  the  Philistines  who  beseiged  the  city. 
Here  still  stands  the  well  called  "David's  well,"  be- 


346  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD        . 

cause  he  liked  the  water  so,  and  in  the  thick  of  a 
battle  nearby  one  day  being  thirsty,  cried  for  water, 
"Oh  that  one  would  give  me  water  to  drink  of  the 
well  of  Bethlehem  that  is  by  the  gate."  1  Chr.  11 :17. 
Three  of  his  mighty  men  forced  the  Philistines  who 
then  occupied  the  city  and  brought  the  water  for 
their  king.  But  he  was  so  touched  he  refused  to 
drink  it,  and  poured  it  out  on  the  ground  as  an  offer- 
ing to  God.  On  these  hills  here  one  day  rose  a 
pathetic  heart-rending  wail  from  the  troubled  moth- 
ers because  old  Herod  sent  soldiers  to  kill  all  their 
babies  so  that  Christ  whom  he  dreaded  might  be  in- 
cluded in  the  number.  "A  voice  was  heard  in  Ramah 
weeping  and  great  mourning,  Rachel  weeping  for 
her  children,  and  would  not  be  comforted  because 
they  were  not."  Matt.  2 :18.  Rachel  herself  is  repre- 
sented rising  from  her  tomb  and  weeping  over  the 
slaughter  of  her  little  ones. 

But  all  other  history  of  Bethlehem  fades  away 
in  the  light  of  the  one  event  that  will  make  the  little 
town  live  forever.  It  is  the  birthplace  of  Jesus. 
Here  heaven  and  earth  came  together  in  the  strange 
blending  of  God  and  man  in  the  life  of  the  child 
Jesus.  One  day  a  tired  and  travel-worn  Galilean 
came  over  the  hills  to  Bethlehem  walking  beside 
his  donkey  upon  which  rode  his  young  wife.  That 
journey  must  have  been  a  hardship  to  Mary.  It 
took  us  two  hard  days  driving  over  good  roads  from 
Jerusalem  to  Nazareth,  and  Bethlehem  is  six  miles 
still  further.  In  those  days  when  there  were  no 
roads  over  the  rough  hills  it  was  a  long  hard  jour- 
ney for  the  Virgin.    They  reached  Bethlehem,  their 


TRAVELS  IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  347 

native  city,  and  sought  shelter,  but  the  hotels  were 
closed  to  people  of  such  humble  station,  and  the 
city  being  crowded  on  account  of  all  the  natives  com- 
ing back  to  their  tribe  center  to  be  taxed  they 
sought  the  quarters  where  the  cattle  lived,  a  thing 
the  humble  classes  do  even  now,  many  of  them  liv- 
ing in  the  tents  and  caves  with  the  animals.  "There 
was  no  room  for  Him  in  the  inn"  (Luke  2:7).  And 
there  has  not  been  much  room  since  for  when  the 
world,  the  flesh  and  the  devil  have  been  accommo- 
dated at  the  hotels  there  is  not  much  room  left  for 
Jesus  Christ. 

That  night  to  the  tired  woman  away  from  her 
home  in  these  humble  surroundings  came  that 
heaven-sent  Visitation  that  left  in  her  arms  her  first- 
born child.  Like  babyhood  has  always  done,  the 
child's  little  blue  eyes  looked  into  the  face  of  His 
mother.  And  like  motherhood  has  always  done, 
Mary  looked  into  the  face  of  her  little  one,  and  as 
she  looked  the  eternal  fires  of  motherlove  were  burn- 
ing in  the  heart  and  the  light  that  first  burned  in 
Heaven  was  shining  in  her  eyes.  As  she  looked  up- 
on her  baby's  face  as  mothers  have  always  done,  she 
took  those  little  hands  in  hers  and  wondered  what 
in  the  providence  of  God  those  hands  would  do  out 
in  the  world  some  day.  And  as  she  felt  the  beat 
of  the  baby's  heart,  as  mothers  have  always  done, 
she  wondered  what  that  heart  would  bear  and  do 
in  the  battle  of  the  world.  Strange  things  had 
been  said  of  her  child  and  motherlike  "she  kept  all 
those  things  and  pondered  them  in  her  heart." 

Nobody  can  ever  tell  the  possibilities  that  lie  hid- 


348  TRAVELS  IN  THE   OLD  WORLD 

den  in  a  baby's  little  hand  and  brain  and  heart, 
for  all  the  mighty  men  of  the  race  were  once  help- 
less little  bundles  of  infancy  with  no  power  to  lift 
their  heads  and  hands  and  with  no  language  but 
a  cry.  But  who  dared  to  dream  that  night  what  lay 
before  Mary's  child?  Those  little  lips  would  speak 
the  Sermon  on  the  Mount,  that  would  live  when 
Roman  Royalty  had  gone  to  dust.  Down  by  blue 
Galilee  they  would  speak  parables  of  light  and 
life  to  thrill  souls  for  all  time.  They  would 
rebuke  disease,  sin  and  even  death  and  at  their  re- 
buke these  monsters  that  had  cursed  the  world 
so  long  would  sneak  away.  They  would  cause  words 
of  comfort  and  peace  for  troubled  hearts  in 
all  lands  and  for  all  time.  That  little  throbbing 
heart  that  made  his  mother's  heart  so  glad  when 
she  saw  it  was  living,  would  bear  the  weight  of  all 
the  world's  sin  and  shame  in  Gethsemane  and  break 
and  bleed  in  sacrificial  love  to  bring  a  lost  world 
back  to  God.  Those  little  hands  and  feet  would  be 
nailed  to  the  cross,  but  those  same  nails  would  for- 
ever fasten  a  lost  world  to  the  loving  heart  of  God 
so  strong  that  no  storms  could  tear  it  away.  It  is 
best  mothers  never  know  what  is  before  the  help- 
less little  ones  as  they  go  down  into  the  valley  of 
death  to  bring  them  up  the  hills  of  life. 

Strange  visitors  were  there  to  welcome  Him  to 
the  new  world  into  which  He  had  come,  but  none 
there  understood  that  those  little  hands  resting  in 
His  mother's  helped  God  make  the  world,  hang  up 
the  stars  and  strike  the  spark  of  life.  Mary  looking 
on  was  Love.    The  cattle  standing  by  was  Nature. 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  349 

Then  the  wise  men  from  afar  came  to  look  on  His 
face,  lay  down  their  gifts  and  go  back  over  the  hills 
rejoicing.  This  was  Wisdom.  Then  the  shepherds 
came  to  behold  Him  who  was  to  be  the  shepherd  of 
us  all.  This  was  Labor.  Then  the  angels  hovered 
over  as  they  do  at  every  cradle,  and  that  was 
Heaven.  But  there  was  another  visitor.  Out  in  the 
shadows  sneaked  the  Devil,  for  he  never  sees  mother- 
love  looking  in  the  face  of  a  new-born  child  that  he 
does  not  march  about  that  scene  with  the  tramp  and 
tread  of  hell  and  set  the  blackest  spirits  he  can  find 
to  the  task  of  blighting  that  picture  if  he  can. 
Especially  was  his  eyes  on  this  baby,  and  back  to 
hell  he  went  to  perfect  a  plot  as  black  as  the  walls 
of  perdition,  to  destroy  the  life  of  the  baby  in 
Mary's  arms.  Those  were  the  representatives  about 
the  manger  watching  the  sleeping  child,  Love, 
Nature,  Wisdom,  Heaven,  Labor,  Satan. 

These  were  the  thoughts  that  came  to  me  as  I 
stood  in  the  Church  of  the  Nativity,  and  these 
thoughts  outshone  the  light  of  the  Roman,  Greek, 
Armenian  and  Catholic  altars  with  their  burning 
candles  and  sullen  priests  here  in  the  place  said  to 
mark  the  birthspot  of  my  Savior.  So  much  ab- 
sorbed was  I  in  these  thoughts  and  the  pictures  that 
arose  before  me  that  I  scarcely  noticed  the  room 
in  which  Jerome  spent  his  years  translating  the 
Scriptures,  nor  did  I  listen  long  to  the  story  of  Joseph 
that  the  Turkish  soldiers  we  saw  were  there  to  keep 
the  priests  from  killing  one  another.  Religious 
hatred  here  where  the  Christ  of  Peace  was  born,  is 
so  strong  that  not  long  ago  they  fought  to  a  bloody 


350  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

finish  and  left  nine  dead  bodies  near  the  place  where 
the  manger  was.  These  things,  along  with  all  the 
tinsel  glitter,  musty  air  and  incense  of  the  super- 
stitious creeds  that  built  their  gloomy  church  over 
the  spot  mattered  little  to  me.  This  was  where 
Jesus,  my  Savior,  was  born,  the  first  Christmas  gift 
to  the  world.  My  heart  went  back  to  that  day  when 
the  gift  of  His  Peace  and  Love  came  into  the  world. 
We  visited  other  spots  in  Bethlehem  and  found 
the  people  more  kindly  disposed  toward  us,  and 
with  all  better  looking  and  brighter  than  we  had 
seen.  Mission  work  has  told  on  the  people  here. 
After  finishing  our  visit  we  turned  our  faces  south- 
ward toward  Hebron.  On  this  journey  we  had  a 
fine  opportunity  to  see  the  life  of  Palestine  as  it  is 
to-day.  Sheep  and  goats  by  the  thousand  were  graz- 
ing on  the  hills;  large  black  lizards,  over  a  foot  long, 
were  sleeping  in  the  sun ;  caravans  of  loaded  camels, 
were  coming  and  going  along  the  road  and  paths; 
fierce  looking  Bedowin  wanderers  were  passing  and 
repassing  us;  women  with  big  rings  in  their  ears 
and  noses  and  water  jars  and  other  burdens  on 
their  heads  were  journeying  to  and  fro.  Here  and 
there  the  threshers  were  treading  out  the  grain.  Far 
and  wide  the  gray  and  green  of  the  olive  trees  glis- 
tened in  the  blazing  sun  that  poured  from  a  cloud- 
less sky.  We  passed  two  or  three  wells  where  women 
were  washing  their  clothes.  They  drew  up  some 
water  in  a  goat  skin  and  poured  enough  on  the  gar- 
ments to  wet  them.  Then  putting  them  on  one 
stone  they  beat  them  with  another.  Then  they 
poured  on  a  little  more  water,  wrung  out  the  gar- 


TRAVELS  IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  351 

ments  and  spread  them  on  the  grass  to  dry.  We 
tried  to  take  a  picture  of  one  of  these  laundries,  but 
only  succeeded  in  bringing  down  upon  us  a  rain  of 
condemnation  from  the  women  who  assaulted  us 
with  unknown  tongues  and  threatened  to  cast  stones 
at  us.  It  is  bad  enough  to  have  a  woman  quarrel  at 
you  when  you  understand  what  she  is  saying,  but  it 
is  beyond  all  endurance  when  she  expresses  her 
opinion  of  you  with  fire  in  her  eye  and  you  don't 
know  a  word  she  says.  But  I  didn't  blame  the  wo- 
men for  not  wanting  their  pictures  taken  in  their 
present  poses.  It  showed  they  had  womanhood  in 
them  to  resent  it.  What  woman  would  want  to  have 
her  picture  taken  without  a  chance  to  comb  her  hair 
and  peep  in  a  mirror? 

About  nine  miles  from  Jerusalem  we  came  to  the 
Pools  of  Solomon,  which  that  great  king  built  nearly 
three  thousand  years  ago  for  the  purpose  of  sup- 
plying Jerusalem  with  water.  This  provided  a 
water  system  which  would  be  considered  first-class 
today,  and  in  those  days  must  have  been  a  wonder 
of  the  world.  There  are  three  of  the  pools  or  reser- 
voirs, each  one  being  below  the  level  of  the  other. 
There  were  strong  springs  or  fountains  in  the  hills 
which  ran  into  the  first  until  it  was  full,  then  it 
over  ran  into  the  second  until  it  was  full  and  the 
second  overflowed  into  the  third.  From  the  third 
pool  the  water  was  conducted  to  Jerusalem  through 
a  covered  flume  built  of  stone,  like  a  mill  race 
around  the  hills.  These  pools  are  well  built  on  a 
massive  scale,  and  are  in  a  good  state  of  preserva- 
tion.   The  lowest  is  the  largest,  being  six  hundred 


352  TRAVELS  IN   THE   OLD  WORLD 

feet  long  and  two  hundred  feet  broad.  The  second 
pool  is  four  hundred  feet  long  and  two  hundred  feet 
broad.  The  upper  one  is  five  hundred  feet  long  and 
two  hundred  feet  broad.  The  capacity  of  these 
three  pools  was  about  ninety  million  gallons. 

From  the  pools  we  continued  our  journey  south- 
ward to  the  valley  supposed  to  be  Eschol,  the  place 
visited  by  the  spies  who  came  to  bring  the  waiting 
Israel  a  report  of  the  land.  From  this  valley  they 
carried  back  wonderful  samples  of  the  land's  fruit- 
fulness,  among  them  a  great  cluster  of  grapes  two 
bore  on  a  staff  between  them.  The  valley  was  full 
of  vineyards  and  heavy  laden  with  grapes  as  we 
went  through  it. 

The  end  of  our  southern  journey  was  Hebron, 
one  of  the  most  noted  places  in  all  the  land  of  Israel. 
This  is  a  sacred  city  to  Mohammedan,  Jew  and 
Christian.  Here  Abraham  lived  and  reared  his 
family,  and  here  the  Father  of  the  Faithful  and  his 
family  are  buried.  Here  David  was  anointed 
king  and  at  first  had  his  capital  during  the  seven 
years  he  was  king  over  Judah,  moving  to  Jerusalem 
when  he  became  king  over  all  the  tribes.  Hebron 
comes  down  to  us  through  an  unbroken  history 
since  the  settlement  by  Abraham.  It  was  occupied 
by  Abraham's  descendants  without  a  break  until 
twelve  hundred  years  ago,  when  it  was  occupied  by 
the  Turks,  who  have  held  it  ever  since.  The  mean- 
ing of  the  name  is  something  like  "confederation" 
or  "society,"  and  it  took  the  name  because  it  was 
the  home  of  Abraham,  who  received  the  greatest 
honorary  degree  ever  given  to  man,  "The  Friend  of 


Mount  Calvary.    Scene  of  the  Crucifixion. 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  353 

God."  With  Abraham  and  God  living  on  terms  of 
united  friendship,  how  fitting  to  name  the  old  patri- 
arch's home  Hebron  or  "Society,"  and  what  a 
society  it  was !  How  far  it  outshone  all  the  society 
the  mighty  of  the  earth  have  ever  invented ! 

We  ate  our  lunch  in  the  shade  of  the  oak  of  Mamre, 
where  Abraham  entertained  the  angels.  We  turned 
to  the  eighteenth  chapter  of  Genesis  and  read: 
"And  the  Lord  appeared  unto  him  by  the  oaks  of 
Mamre  (Mamre  means  vision,  and  what  a  vision 
Abraham  must  have  received  here!),  as  he  sat  in 
the  tent  door  in  the  heat  of  the  day."  It  was  the 
heat  of  the  day — oppressive  heat — when  we  were 
here  and  sat  in  the  shade  of  the  oaks.  The  tent 
was  a  tent  of  goats  skins,  and  we  imagined  it  was 
just  there  before  us.  "And  he  lifted  up  his  eyes 
and  looked,  and  lo,  three  men  stood  over  against 
him;  and  when  he  saw  them  he  ran  to  meet  them 
from  the  tent  door  and  bowed  himself  to  the  earth 
and  said,  My  lord,  if  now  I  have  found  favor  in 
thy  sight  pass  not  away  I  pray  thee  from  thy  ser- 
vant; let  now  a  little  water  be  fetched  and  wash 
your  feet  and  rest  yourselves  under  the  tree,  and  I 
will  fetch  a  morsel  of  bread,  and  strengthen  ye  your 
hearts." 

The  old  tree,  worn  and  shaken  by  the  storms, 
there  before  us,  is  said  by  wise  men  to  be  the  tree. 
Others  claim  it  would  be  an  impossibility  for  a  tree 
to  stand  so  long  if  the  hand  of  man  would  let  it 
alone.  It  is  a  very  old  tree — one  of  the  oldest  to 
be  seen  anywhere.  Its  main  trunk  has  died  away 
from  age,  and  on  one  side  of  it  another  tree  is  grow- 


354  TRAVELS  IN   THE   OLD  WORLD 

ing.  If  this  is  not  the  real  tree  that  has  died  away- 
more  than  once  that  a  new  branch  might  grow  on 
from  its  dead  body,  it  is  surely  near  the  place  be- 
fore us  where  the  Patriarch  did  entertain  the  three 
angels  who  had  come  as  messengers  from  heaven 
to  tell  him  his  wife  should  bear  a  son.  The  angels 
also  brought  with  the  joyous  message,  one  of  sad- 
ness, as  God's  messengers  often  do.  Sodom,  the 
wicked  city  where  Lot  had  gone,  would  soon  be  de- 
stroyed from  the  earth. 

It  was  at  this  point  the  Prophet  of  God  rose  to 
the  highest  point  his  character  had  reached,  and 
only  once  did  it  go  beyond  that,  and  the  time  was 
when,  on  the  road  to  Moriah,  he  went  to  lay  on  the 
altar  of  Jehovah  his  only  son.  Out  there  some- 
where before  us,  near  that  old  oak,  the  old  man 
fell  in  the  dust,  and  turning  his  anxious  face  up 
to  God,  threw  his  soul  out  to  God  in  such  a  chal- 
lenge of  intercessory  prayer  as  the  world  has  sel- 
dom witnessed.  It  is  no  sign  of  greatness  for  a 
man  to  pray  for  himself  in  the  face  of  danger.  The 
smallest  and  the  meanest  do  that.  But  it  is  a  sign 
of  greatness  for  a  man  to  throw  himself  between 
another  sinner  who  has  wronged  him  and  divine 
judgment,  and  with  a  mighty  faith  and  pleading 
prayer  stay  the  hand  of  Judgment ! 

One  day  out  there  the  young  man  and  the  old 
man  stood  gazing  over  the  hills.  The  forks  of  the 
road  had  come,  as  it  always  does,  to  the  old  and 
young.  Henceforth  their  ways  must  go  upart,  as 
ways  so  often  must.  The  old  man  told  the  young 
man  to  take  his  choice.    One  road  led  through  the 


TRAVELS  IN  THE  OLD  WORLD  355 

hills,  rough,  rugged  and  sometimes  bare;  the  other 
led  over  the  hills  to  the  plains  so  black  and  rich. 
The  fields  were  heavy  with  harvest  and  the  people 
gay  with  life.  As  the  young  man  gazed  first  along 
the  hillside  road  and  then  the  river  road,  a  woman 
came — as  women  often  do— to  help  him  make  his 
choice.  Her  hand  was  trembling  as  she  caught  his 
arm,  and  her  breath  went  hot  upon  his  face  as  she 
whispered  in  his  ear  for  him  to  take  the  river  road. 
Its  luxury  called  her;  its  society  lured  her  more 
than  the  society  of  the  old  man  and  his  angels. 
No  man  ever  rose  to  heights  of  success  or  fell  to 
depths  of  ruin  that  there  was  not  somewhere  in 
the  shadows  nearby  a  woman  whose  hand  did  its 
helping. 

The  young  man  took  the  River  Road  as  young 
men  often  do  and  turned  his  back  on  the  old  man 
as  young  men  often  do.  Youth  gets  tired  of  being 
bothered  and  bored  with  old  age,  but  sad  is  the 
day  for  youth  when  it  turns  away  from  age  and 
thinks  it  needs  it  no  more.  The  young  man  pitched 
his  tent  toward  Sodom.  No  he  had  no  notion  of  go- 
ing there,  but  the  river  road  was  a  downward  road 
as  it  always  is  and  on  a  downward  road  we  never 
know  just  where  we  can  stop.  He  lived  near  the  city 
and  with  his  flocks  and  herds  went  into  the  dairy 
and  meat  business  with  the  city  people.  His  family 
got  a  taste  of  city  society  and  grew  tired  of  the 
suburban  life.  So  one  day  Mrs.  Lot  and  the  girls  de- 
cided on  a  fine  home  on  Society  Boulevard  and  they 
moved  in.  The  girls  became  society  favorites  and 
daughters-in-law  of  Sodom.    Mr.  Lot  was  elected  to 


356  TRAVELS  IN   THE   OLD  WORLD 

the  town  council,  and  often  in  their  home  on  the 
avenue  and  going  to  and  from  society  functions, 
they  smiled  in  joy  and  blessed  the  day  they  left  the 
country  to  come  to  the  city  and  wondered  how  the 
old  man  fared,  whose  old-time  notions  kept  him 
in  the  hills.  What  greater  society  advantages  had 
they  in  the  city  of  Sodom,  over  the  old  man  alone 
in  his  tent  in  the  hills  with  his  immaginary  (?) 
angels !  Yet  the  old  man's  home  was  Hebron,  which 
meant  society — yes,  Society  Hill — and  what  a  society 
it  was !  In  his  tent  he  dined  with  angels.  But  peo- 
ple have  different  tastes.  Some  prefer  Sodomites 
to  angels ! 

Back  in  the  hills  the  old  man  met  God  with 
promises  in  his  hand.  And  in  the  light  of  those 
promises  the  old  man  lived  and  died.  But  the  old 
man  never  forgot  the  young  man;  he  missed  him 
and  he  prayed  for  him.  Any  young  man  is  to  be 
pitied  who  goes  to  the  city  and  has  no  old  man  in 
the  hills  who  closes  his  eyes  and  turns  his  face 
heavenward  in  prayer  for  him.  When  the  storm 
came,  it  was  the  old  man  back  in  the  hills 
who  saved  the  young  man  down  in  the  city  as  he 
came,  white-faced  and  weak  from  his  agonizing 
prayer.  Even  his  prayers  did  not  save  the  young 
man's  wife  and  the  characters  of  his  daughters. 

These  thoughts  r]an  through  our  minds  as  we 
lunched  that  day  under  the  shade  of  the  oaks  of 
Mamre,  and  when  we  finished  our  lunch  we  went 
to  the  grove  where  Abraham,  Sarah,  Isaac,  Re- 
becca and  Jacob  are  buried.  There  is  no  doubt 
about  the  locality.    The  Turks  for  over  a  thousand 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  357 

years  have  guarded  it  and  if  a  foreigner's  foot 
crosses  the  line,  the  price  they  pay  is  death.  It  gives 
one  strange  feelings  to  stand  at  the  grave  of  these 
great  saints.  And  yet  I  thought  that  their  souls 
were  not  here.  Abraham  had  been  seen  in  heavenly 
company.  He  who  had  angels  for  his  company  in 
life,  surely  now  is  with  them  in  the  Better  Land ! 

In  front  of  Abraham's  tomb  is  a  Mohammedan 
cemetary,  the  dreariest  place  on  earth ;  no  flowers  or 
plants ;  no  inscriptions ;  just  bleak,  barren  mud-cov- 
ered graves,  with  mud-made  head  stones  as  gloomy 
as  the  Turks  can  make  them.  Nowhere  is  the  super- 
stition, degradation  and  filth  of  the  Turk  more  in 
evidence  than  here  about  the  tomb  of  Abraham. 
Strange  Abraham,  The  Friend  of  God,  should  rest 
in  the  midst  of  all  this  shame,  while  the  heathenish 
Turks  control  his  tomb. 

In  1921  we  secured  photos  of  the  interior  of  Abra- 
ham's tomb,  the  first  ever  taken.  After  the  fall  of 
the  Turks  in  1918  the  Mohammedans  became  more 
lenient  and  now  with  proper  pull  and  backshish  you 
may  enter  this  sacred  tomb. 

On  this  trip  we  met  Rev.  Mr.  Forder,  a  Wesleyan 
Methodist  missionary  in  Jerusalem.  He  gave  twenty- 
five  years  of  heroic  service  to  the  Mohammedans  in 
the  Land  of  Moab,  working  under  awful  persecutions, 
but  delivered  by  God  in  ways  truly  miraculous.  The 
way  the  country  was  finally  opened  to  him  and  he 
won  the  hearts  of  the  people  was  touching  in  the  ex- 
treme. His  baby  fell  sick  and  died.  They  buried  the 
little  one  in  that  far  away  strange  land,  the  father  the 


358  TRAVELS  IN  THE  OLD  WORLD 

undertaker,  the  mother  the  chief  mourner.  The  peo- 
ple gathered  in  great  numbers  to  see  them  give  their 
child  Christian  burial,  so  different  from  that  they 
gave  their  children.  The  people  seemed  greatly 
touched  and  the  next  day  a  native  came  to  the  house 
of  the  misisonary  bringing  a  little  lamb  in  his  arms, 
with  the  story  that  it  was  customary  among  their 
people,  when  parents  lost  a  little  one,  for  another 
mother  who  had  a  baby  to  lend  the  bereaved  mother 
her  own  child,  so  that  in  her  aching  loneliness  she 
might  give  her  affection  to  the  borrowed  child  and 
gradually  accustom  herself  to  her  sorrow.  As  his 
wife  had  no  child  to  send  they  had  brought  the  lamb 
and  wanted  Mrs.  Forder  to  give  her  time  and  de- 
votion in  caring  for  the  lamb,  thus  easing  the  bur- 
den of  her  sorrow  and  loneliness.  Thus  the  burial 
of  the  missionary's  baby  in  that  strange  land  opened 
the  hearts  of  the  people  that  had  been  sealed  so  hard 
and  this  beautiful  instance  shows  that  beyond  the 
outer  walls  of  superstition  and  evil  there  is  a  hu- 
man heart  after  all  that  speaks  the  universal  lan- 
guage of  the  soul.  These  and  many  other  examples 
show  that  with  an  apostolic  ministry  the  gospel  of 
Christ  can  break  even  the  walls  of  Mohammedanism 
and  win  those  imprisoned  souls  to  God. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 
JERICHO,  THE  JORDAN  AND  THE  DEAD  SEA. 

"A  certain  man  went  down  from  Jerusalem  to 
Jericho."  If  he  grot  there  he  certainly  went  down, 
for  the  descent  from  Jerusalem  to  the  Dead  Sea 
just  beyond,  is  four  thousand  feet  in  a  distance  of 
about  twenty-five  miles,  being  an  average  of  one 
hundred  and  sixty  feet  fall  to  the  mile  that  the  road 
must  make. 

Unfortunately,  our  journey  was  on  about  the  hot- 
est  day  of  the  summer.  The  wind  was  from  the 
hot  sands  of  the  desert,  and  felt  as  if  it  was  blown 
from  a  hot  stove.  The  scorching  sun  beat  down 
from  a  sky  that  offered  nothing  to  temper  its  heat, 
but  our  spirits  were  as  warm  as  the  sun,  and  we 
made  the  journey  with  success  and  happiness. 

Our  first  stop  was  Bethany,  the  home  of  Lazarus 
and  his  sisters,  Martha  and  Mary.  We  visited  the 
supposed  spot  where  they  lived  and  the  tomb  from 
which  Jesus  called  Lazarus  from  death  to  life.  In 
all  the  life  of  Jesus  there  is  nothing  more  tender 
and  touching  than  his  connection  with  this  home. 
It  brings  out  the  homelike  nature  of  the  Lord,  and 
shows  the  kind  of  a  friend  and  guest  He  was.  Who 
can  tell  what  He  meant  to  this  home  and  its  three 
members,  and  who  can  tell  what  this  home  meant 
to  Him  ?  What  will  be  their  reward  for  giving  Him 
a  home  when  God  makes  up  the  count?  The  Mas- 
ter appreciated  this  home,  for  He  did  not  have  an- 
other like  it. 


360  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

Fresh  to  my  mind  came  that  beautiful  eleventh 
chapter  of  John  as  we  stood  in  Bethany.  It  has 
long  been  one  of  my  favorite  chapters,  so  full  of 
real  every  day  living  interest  and  touches  of  heart 
and  soul!  I  had  often  preached  from  it  and  tried 
to  carry  its  message  to  the  troubled  and  the  strug- 
gling. Now  it  was  a  privilege  to  read  it  here  in 
Bethany,  and  see  the  scene  before  me.  One  day 
over  on  the  Jordan  in  a  crowd,  a  man  pressed  in 
and  said,  "He  whom  thou  lovest  is  sick."  Of  course 
that  message  would  touch  Him.  Who  has  not  felt 
the  force  of  it  in  his  own  heart?  "It  was  that  Mary 
who  anointed  the  Lord  with  ointment  and  wiped 
His  feet  with  her  hair  whose  brother,  Lazarus,  was 
sick."  Yes,  all  the  tender  things  they  ever  did  for 
us  come  up  before  us  when  they  are  going  through 
the  shadows. 

Then  a  strange  thing  happens.  "He  abode  two 
days  in  the  place  where  He  was."  Over  there  be- 
yond Jordan  two  days  busy  with  other  folks,  and, 
his  friend  sick  and  dying,  and  these  sisters  broken- 
hearted. Why  doesn't  He  come  ?  Why  does  He  wait 
so  long?  Why  is  His  program,  with  its  dates  and 
numbers,  not  like  mine  ?  But  we  went  over  a  verse. 
"Now  Jesus  loved  Martha  and  her  sister  and  Laza- 
rus." Oh.  that  is  the  keynote  to  all  the  storms  of 
fife!  If  he  loves  us  He  will  come — maybe  not  at 
the  time  we  set,  nor  in  the  manner  we  desire — but 
in  His  own  way  and  in  His  own  time,  He  will  come. 
Jesus  turned  His  face  toward  that  home.  It  mat- 
tered not  that  His  disciples  warned  Him  of  pre- 
vious plots  to  take  His  life  back  there.    He  would 


TRAVELS  IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  361 

not  let  any  danger  deter  Him  when  His  friends 
were  in  trouble.  He  came  walking,  for  He  seemed 
to  go  that  way  over  burning  sands  up  steep  hills, 
over  rough  places  facing  dangers  and  enemies  for 
about  thirty-five  miles  to  help  His  troubled  friends. 
Beautiful  picture!  And  is  it  not  true  with  us? 
Does  He  ever  fail  to  come  to  help  us  in  our  trouble 
when  we  send  for  Him?  Martha  met  Him  down 
the  road  there  before  us,  and  "Mary  sat  still  in  the 
house."  Trouble  dazes  and  crushes  some  hearts,  so 
that  all  they  can  do  is  to  sit  still  in  the  house,  while 
it  drives  others  out  down  the  road  to  meet  the  Lord. 
Jesus  looked  on  them;  on  the  grave  and  the  heart- 
less mourners  wailing  around  and  "Jesus  wept." 
Shortest  verse  in  the  whole  Bible,  but  what  a  mean- 
ing. Why  did  he  weep,  Not  from  despair,  or 
mourning.  Maybe  because  of  His  sympathy  for  them 
and  because  death  had  come  into  the  world,  but 
surely  because  of  the  way  they  looked  at  death  and 
His  relation  to  it.  "I  am  the  resurrection  and  the 
life,  whosoever  liveth  and  believeth  on  Me  shall  never 
die."  It  was  because  their  hearts  did  not  take  in 
this  that  He  was  weeping.  Then  He  called  his 
friend  forth  from  the  grave  and  turned  him  over  to 
his  loved  ones.  What  if  one  would  come  to  the  ceme- 
tery to  do  that  for  us  to-day?  He  is  coming  to  do 
it  tomorrow !    Blessed  be  the  thought ! 

On  down  the  road  which  is  very  good,  we  drove 
toward  Jericho.  It  was  the  way  of  the  wilderness, 
and  a  more  barren  desolation  would  be  hard  to  find. 
No  house  or  tent  did  we  see  until  about  half  way 
we  came  to  a  rock  house  called  "The  Good  Samari- 


362  TRAVELS  IN   THE  OLD  WORLD 

tan  Inn"  because  it  is  reported  here  was  where  the 
poor  fellow  fell  among  thieves.  There  is  no  doubt 
about  the  genuineness  of  the  place,  for  there  are 
many  who  claim  the  distinction  of  falling  among 
thieves  along  here  most  any  time,  although  we 
escaped  because  our  party  was  too  large  and  our 
guides  and  drivers  too  well  armed  for  the  sneaking 
cowards  to  attempt  to  harm  us.  We  saw  a  number 
of  them  walking  the  road  and  sneaking  along  the 
ravines.  In  traveling  these  roads  you  must  go  pro- 
tected or  you  can  pay  the  Turkish  authorities  a 
ransom  and  they  will  divide  with  the  thieves  and 
you  can  go  through  unharmed. 

We  stopped  awhile  and  refreshed  ourselves  and 
the  horses  at  the  "Good  Samaritan  Inn."  It  is  occu- 
pied by  kindly-looking  Arabian  sons  of  the  out-of- 
doors  who  treated  us  with  politeness  and  considera- 
tion. After  doing  all  they  could  for  our  comfort 
at  a  reasonable  price  they  favored  us  with  the  Bedo- 
win  dance  given  in  honor  of  our  party.  I  don't 
know  how  it  compared  with  other  dances,  for  I  am 
not  up  on  that  form  of  depravity,  but  I  don't  think 
I  want  to  see  another  one.  The  music  was  from 
drums  made  with  a  sheepskin  on  a  pitcher,  and 
bones  whch  caused  a  continual  din  that  strained 
the  eardrums.  The  dancers  were  men  who  carried 
their  bodies  through  many  contortions,  and  made 
many  grimaces  and  muttered  many  things.  But 
the  chief  feature  of  it  all  was  the  way  they  handled 
the  long,  sharp  swords.  They  flourished  them  about 
their  heads;  dangled  them  upon  their  fingers,  and 
whizzed  them  around  and  around,  cutting  the  air 


TRAVELS  IN   THE  OLD  WORLD  363 

so  close  to  our  heads  and  ears  that  we  felt  our- 
selves wiping  the  blood  away.  As  we  bobbed  our 
heads  to  save  our  scalps,  it  seemed  to  amuse  them 
more  than  it  did  us. 

The  last  six  or  eight  miles  of  our  journey  was 
through  the  plain  so  rich  that  if  it  was  irrigated 
it  would  feed  all  that  end  of  the  world.  It  was 
here  Sodom  and  Gomorrah,  cities  of  the  plain  were 
destroyed  for  their  wickedness  and  so  complete 
was  the  destruction  that  nobody  has  ever  located 
them.  Some  great  volcanic  earthquake  must  have 
destroyed  the  cities  and  changed  things  so  as  to 
form  the  Dead  Sea  and  curse  the  land  with  salt  and 
other  solutions.  The  Dead  Sea  is  in  this  plain.  It 
is  thirteen  hundred  feet  below  the  level  of  the  sea 
and  at  its  deepest  point  is  said  to  be  almost  as  deep. 

A  few  of  us  took  a  bath  in  the  Dead  Sea.  We 
waded  out  into  it  as  far  as  we  could  wade  and  then 
we  waded  further.  Being  the  heaviest  salt  solu- 
tion on  the  earth  you  cannot  possibly  sink  in  it. 
You  can  lie  on  your  back  and  sleep  and  read  float- 
ing about  like  a  boat.  If  you  stand  up  your  feet 
will  rise  so  high,  pushing  your  body  out  of  the 
water  until  you  will  fall  on  your  head,  getting  your 
eyes,  mouth  and  ears  full  of  the  water  which  is  very 
unpleasant  and  painful.  All  you  have  to  do  is  to 
tread  water  enough  to  keep  your  head  out  of  it. 
The  bath  was  delightful.  No  surf  bathing  I  have 
ever  experienced  was  equal  to  it,  but  after  it  was 
over  trouble  came.  The  salt  and  other  solutions  be- 
gan to  burn  the  skin  and  run  about  on  it  like  grease. 
We  felt  as  if  we  had  been  rubbed  with  red  pepper 
and  anointed  with  melted  lard. 


364  TRAVELS  IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

The  Dead  Sea  is  a  beautiful  body  of  water  not- 
withstanding things  that  have  been  said  about  it. 
It  is  so  clear  that  pebbles  can  be  seen  twenty  feet 
deep.  It  has  a  beautiful  sandy  shore  covered  with 
pebbles,  on  which  ebbs  and  flows  a  little  tide.  It 
is  fifty-three  miles  long  with  an  average  width  of 
ten  miles.  There  is  no  life  in  it.  No  fish  swims 
its  waters,  and  all  that  are  carried  in  by  the  Jordan 
soon  die.  We  saw  some  dead  fish  floating  on  the 
waters.  No  living  thing  lives  on  its  waves  or  along 
its  shore.  Beyond  the  sea  high  and  rugged  rose  the 
blue  hills  of  Moab,  the  land  of  Ruth.  Further  up 
the  hills  rose  Pisgah  and  Mt.  Nebo,  where  with  an 
angel  for  an  undertaker  the  Great  Moses  was  laid 
to  rest  after  looking  over  into  the  Promised  land  to- 
ward which  he  had  so  long  been  leading  his  people 
and  into  which  he  was  not  permitted  to  enter. 

Back  behind  us  rose  the  hill  upon  which  Jeru- 
salem sat  and  the  green  slopes  of  the  Mount  of 
Olives.  As  I  stood  there  listening  to  the  waves  of 
the  Dead  Sea  that  washed  the  sands  at  my  feet,  my 
mind  was  calling  up  the  tragic  history  enacted  upon 
this  plain  as  a  theater.  The  scene  was  preaching 
great  sermons  to  my  soul.  The  cities  of  sin  were 
gone,  as  they  all  must  go.  Where  once  surged  the 
gay  and  sinful  life  of  these  rich  cities  of  the  plain 
now  was  desolaton  and  death.  The  river  Jordan 
journeying  through  the  hills  of  Canaan  poured  a 
great  volume  of  fresh  water  into  the  Dead  Sea,  while 
from  the  hills  of  Moab  lesser  streams  did  likewise. 
This  old  sea  swallowed  it  all  and  gave  out  nothing 
but  desolation  and  death.    It  has  no  outlet  save  from 


TRAVELS  IN   THE   OLD  WORLD  365 

evaporation.  In  spite  of  all  the  fresh  water  it  drinks 
up  it  is  never  made  fresh  or  sweet. 

How  like  many  lives  is  this  sea?  They  devour  all 
the  rivers  of  life  and  blessings  that  flow  into  them 
from  the  hills  of  God  and  they  give  out  nothing  but 
poison  and  death.  No  life  is  in  them  or  about  them 
save  the  life  of  their  own  stagnated  selfishness.  All 
their  ambition  has  been  to  get  blessings  and  they 
have  never  heard  God's  command  to  Israel  to  "be  a 
blessing."  They  are  like  one  of  our  great  Million- 
aires who  undertook  a  few  years  ago  to  make  a 
Sunday-school  speech.  He  spoke  of  all  the  blessings 
he  had  received  and  said,  "I  have  just  been  a 
sponge,  drinking  in  blessings  from  God."  Poor  old 
sponge!  How  many  there  are  in  the  world,  just  ab- 
sorbing all  about  them  and  holding  it  until  the  life 
is  squeezed  out  of  them.  They  are  Dead  Seas  drink- 
ing in  all  the  blessings  of  God's  rivers  and  turning 
them  to  salt.  He  must  have  been  a  sponge  or  he 
would  not  have  said  so.  And  yet  what  a  reputation ! 
What  an  accomplishment !  An  old  sponge !  How  we 
detest  and  abhor  them !  What  must  God  think  of  the 
sponges  and  Dead  Seas  in  the  human  souls  of  this 
earth? 

Leaving  the  Dead  Sea  we  crossed  the  plain  to 
Jericho  where  in  the  Jordan  hotel  we  lodged  after 
visiting  the  places  of  interest  about  the  town. 
It  would  be  hard  to  find  a  more  desolate  and  filthy 
town  than  modern  Jericho  with  its  little  black  mud- 
huts  where  on  the  dirt  floors  live  people,  donkeys, 
goats,  chickens,  dogs  and  smaller  fry,  too  numerous 
to  mention.    The  name  means  fragrance,  but  it  is 


366  TRAVELS  IN   THE   OLD  WORLD 

hoped  the  fragrance  used  to  be  better  than  it  is  now. 
What  a  contrast  between  the  present  appearance 
and  that  in  the  days  of  all  its  royal  glory  when  it 
was  known  far  and  wide  as  the  City  of  Palm  Trees 
and  was  the  winter  resort  of  Herod,  who  leased  it 
from  Cleopatra  who  received  it  as  a  gift  from  Mark 
Anthony. 

What  a  history  Jericho  has!  That  night  after 
a  good  supper  I  was  unable  to  sleep  from  the  flood 
of  history  that  beat  at  my  door  along  with  the  jack- 
alls  howling  under  our  window  and  the  salt  crusts 
over  my  body  and  an  oily  substance  that  came  from 
the  Dead  Sea  bath  (which  could  not  be  washed  off 
for  lack  of  water)  along  with  scorching  heat  and 
other  "little  things."  So  I  reviewed  before  me  the 
history  of  the  scenes  old  Jericho  had  known  as  I 
lay  awake. 

Great  and  beautiful  was  this  city  of  continual 
summertime.  It  marked  the  first  battle  of  Israel 
after  their  entrance  into  the  borders  of  their  Pro- 
mised Land.  Seven  times  about  the  walls  the  host 
marched  and  then  blew  their  ram's  horns  and  God 
threw  down  the  city  walls.  Rahab  was  saved  by  a 
scarlet  thread  in  her  window  because  she  had  cared 
for  the  spies  who  came  to  view  the  land.  I  could 
almost  hear  the  blast  of  the  ram's  horns.  Here  Zac- 
cheus  lived  and  somewhere  nearby  he  climbed  a 
sycamore  tree.  Not  our  kind  of  a  sycamore  but  a 
tree  whose  limbs  run  near  the  ground  and  can  be 
easily  climbed.  Jesus  called  him  down  from  the  tree 
where  he  had  placed  himself  to  get  a  view  of  Christ 
and  he  seems  to  have  been  converted  between  the 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  367 

tree  and  the  ground.  Here  Jesus  healed  the  two 
blind  men  recorded  in  Matt.  20 :29-34. 

The  most  interesting  thing  in  Jericho  to  me  was 
Elisha's  Fountain.  It  is  a  large  fountain  or  spring 
running  out  of  a  little  hill  with  a  stream  strong 
enough  to  turn  a  mill.  The  surrounding  country  is 
supplied  with  water  from  this  spring.  All  the 
rest  of  the  water  is  brackish  and  this  alone 
pure  and  sweet.  The  water  runs  a  short  distance 
and  is  swallowed  up  by  the  plain,  but  it  shows  what 
the  country  would  be  if  it  was  watered.  A  beautiful 
oasis  springs  up  about  this  spring.  This  fountain 
is  conceded  by  Bible  scholars  to  be  the  fountain  Eli- 
sha  healed  with  salt.  2  Ki.  2:19:22.  "Thus  saith 
the  Lord,  I  have  healed  these  waters ;  there  shall  be 
from  henceforth  no  more  death."  And  ever  since 
this  spring  has  been  sweet  and  the  others  brackish. 

Just  beyond  Jericho  rise  high  mountains  and  the 
wilderness.  It  was  perhaps  there  Jesus  met  his 
forty  days'  temptation  after  his  baptism  in  the 
Jordan  nearby.  A  projecting  pinnacle  is  pointed 
out  as  the  place  where  the  devil  took  the  Savior 
and  showed  him  all  the  kingdoms  of  the  world  and 
the  glories  of  them  and  offered  them  to  Him  for 
His  allegiance.  In  the  fertility  and  richness  of  this 
vast  plain  at  that  time  it  was  a  beautiful  picture 
that  met  the  eye  from  that  mountain.  But  what 
was  all  the  glories  of  the  plain  and  its  cities  to  Him 
who  came  to  lay  down  His  life  for  the  world?  It 
stirred  my  heart  to  think  there  in  those  hills  my 
Savior  faced  the  devil  alone  and  weak  from  hun- 
ger for  forty  days  to  show  us  how  to  be  victorious 


368  TRAVELS  IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

in  temptation.  Then  came  the  blessed  thought  that 
when  he  was  victorious  and  the  devil  left  Him 
angels  came  and  ministered  to  Him.  They  always  do. 
We  visited  the  Jordan  before  our  return  to  Jeru- 
salem, and  meditated  on  its  banks  on  the  history 
it  has  known.  Wonderful  river!  What  could  these 
banks  tell  if  they  would?  Near  here  Jesus  was 
baptized  by  John  the  Baptist.  Near  here  Israel, 
after  forty  years  of  wilderness  wandering,  crossed 
the  flood  into  their  long  Promised  Land,  with 
only  two  of  those  who  started  from  Egypt.  How 
their  hearts  must  have  swelled  with  joy  and  peace 
as  they  crossed  the  river  with  the  water  standing 
up  on  either  side  and  set  foot  upon  the  shores  of 
Canaan!  As  they  left  Egypt,  the  land  of  bondage, 
the  waters  stood  up  and  left  a  path  for  them  and 
then  rolled  together  behind  them.  Now  at  the  end 
of  forty  years  of  trial  the  waters  part  again  to  let 
them  pass  over  and  enter  their  promised  land.  We 
bathed  in  Jordan's  waters,  and  let  our  hearts  roll 
on  with  its  tide  through  the  hills  and  the  years. 
Some  day  we  would  stand  upon  the  banks  of  another 
river  on  the  shores  of  our  Promised  Land  for  which 
we  had  been  marching  and  struggling  through  a 
wilderness  for  many  years.  Then  there  came  ring- 
ing through  our  souls  the  old  hymn  we  heard  across 
the  seas  back  home.  From  our  earliest  days  we 
had  heard  it  from  happy  souls  who  caught  a  vision 
of  the  other  land.  Many  lips  that  had  sung  that 
hymn  were  hushed  and  many  souls  that  had 
been  thrilled  by  it  have  passed  over  the  river 
and    are    resting    under    the    shade    of   the    trees. 


TRAVELS  IN   THE  OLD  WORLD  369 

So  on  Jordan's  banks  that  day  as  the  sun  was  going: 
down  beyond  the  hills  of  Judea  we  sang : 

On  Jordan's  stormy  banks  I  stand, 

And  cast  a  wishful  eye 
To  Canaan's  fair  and  happy  land, 

Where  my  possessions  lie. 

0  the  transporting,  rapturous  scene 

That  rises  to  me  sight ! 
Sweet  fields  arrayed  in  living  green, 

And  rivers  of  delight! 

O'er  all  those  wide  extended  plains 

Shines  one  eternal  day; 
There  God  the  sun  forever  reigns 

And  scatters  night  away. 

No  chilling  winds  or  poisonous  breath, 
Can  reach  that  healthful  shore ; 

Sickness  and  sorrow,  pain  and  death, 
Are  felt  and  feared  no  more. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

OVER  THE  HILLS  TO  NAZARETH. 

Early  in  the  morning  of  July  13th  we  drove  out 
from  the  Damascus  Gate  and  turned  our  faces  over 
the  hills  toward  the  north,  for  the  journey  of  eighty 
miles  to  Lake  Galilee.  We  paused  a  little  while  for 
a  parting  view  of  Jerusalem  and  the  hills  about  it. 
Our  parting  gave  us  a  sad  feeling.  The  several 
days  we  spent  in  the  Holy  City  had  drawn  us  to  it 
and  it  made  us  sad  to  go.  The  rising  sun  over  Oli- 
vet was  filling  the  city  and  hills  with  light.  Cal- 
vary, where  Jesus  died,  lay  barren  in  the  sun.  We 
cast  a  last  look  upon  that  hill  and  then  on  Olivet 
and  Gethsemane  as /the  carriages  swung  around  a 
curve  in  the  road  and  left  the  vison  behind  us. 

We  stopped  at  Mizpah.  Here  was  one  of  the  points 
where  Samuel  judged  (1  Sam.  7:16)  and  here  Saul 
was  crowned  king  (1  Sam.  10 :17) .  It  was  near  here 
after  Israel  had  defeated  the  Philistines  Samuel  set 
up  a  stone  and  called  the  place  Ebenezer,  which 
means  "the  Lord  helps  us."  From  this  stone  many 
churches  in  our  own  land  received  their  name,  and 
at  many  an  old  Ebenezer  souls  have  been  happy  in 
the  Lord.  We  also  passed  Nob,  and  Ramah  where 
Samuel  lived  and  where  Jeremiah  was  cast  in  prison. 
We  next  came  to  Elbirah,  said  to  be  the  place  where 
the  parents  of  Jesus  first  missed  him,  after  they  left 
Him  in  Jerusalem.  We  also  passed  Ai  where  Abra- 
ham once  had  his  tent  and  where  Joshua  won  such  a 
great  battle  over  enemies  of  Israel. 


Our  road  also  took  us  by  Shiloh,  noted  because 
here  the  tabernacle  was  pitched  and  Israel  camped. 
We  tried  to  imagine  how  the  scene  looked.  Also 
this  was  the  seat  of  government  of  Israel  at  one 
time,  and  here  the  priest,  Eli,  lived  and  died.  Here 
little  Samuel  was  dedicated  to  God  and  began  his 
service  in  the  tabernacle  and  heard  the  voice  of 
God  call  him  in  the  night  telling  him  what  his  work 
was  to  be.  Here  at  Shiloh  the  trbies  were  gathered 
together.  (Josh.  22).  On  this  days'  journey  no 
place  touched  me  more  than  Bethel.  This  pile  of 
ruins  has  much  rich  history  mingled  with  its  dust. 
Abraham  built  an  altar  here  and  worshipped  his 
God;  here  Joshua  fought  a  great  battle  and  won  a 
victory  for  God  and  Israel;  here  Deborah  judged 
Israel  and  closed  out  her  eventful  life;  here  the 
tabernacle  was  pitched;  here  Jereboam  established 
idolatrous  worship;  here  was  the  school  of  the 
prophets ;  and  here  the  children  mocked  Elisha  and 
the  bears  came  out  and  devoured  them.  But  Bethel 
is  not  noted  for  any  of  these  events  as  much  as  it  is 
for  something  else. 

Here  one  day  came  a  lone  and  way-worn  traveler 
at  the  close  of  the  day.  No  house  in  sight  he  ate  a 
little  bread  and  drank  a  little  water  from  the  small 
store  he  carried  with  him  and  laying  his  tired  head 
on  a  hard  rock  he  slept  on  the  ground  with  the  stars 
for  a  shelter  above  him.  It  was  a  dark  and  lonely 
time  for  him.  He  had  been  driven  from  home  by 
trouble  with  his  brother.  His  mother's  diplomacy 
was  sending  him  to  her  people  to  seek  for  a  wife. 
To-night  he  was  not  only  troubled  with  his  own 


872  TRAVELS  IN  THE  OLD  WORLD 

sin,  but  lonely  on  account  of  absence  from  his  mother 
who  petted  him  and  his  father  who  loved  him. 
In  that  lone  place  that  night  God  let  down  a  ladder 
from  Heaven  and  sent  angels  down  its  shining  steps 
to  comfort  and  help  the  lone  and  troubled  traveler, 
as  He  will  always  do.  So  Jacob  received  a  blessing, 
and  learned  that  there  was  no  place  so  lonely 
but  that  it  was  at  the  very  gate  of  Heaven  if  we 
but  knew  it.  He  set  up  an  altar  to  God  and  made 
a  vow  that  if  God  would  stand  by  him  and  bring 
him  home  in  peace,  he  would  be  loyal  to  God  and  of 
all  God  gave  him  he  would  give  back  a  tenth.  He 
then  changed  the  name  of  the  place  from  Luz  to 
Bethel  which  means  House  of  God,  and  wherever 
the  Gospel  has  been  preached  others  have  built  God 
a  house  and  called  it  Bethel  until  we  can  hardly  find 
a  community  that  hasn't  a  church  by  that  name. 

We  lunched  that  day  at  a  place  by  the  name  of 
Sabbonah.  Our  horses  ate  some  food  and  we  ate 
our  lunch  and  drank  some  water  from  the  well  that 
was  there.  A  large  and  mixed  assembly  gathered 
about  that  well.  The  maidens  were  there  getting 
water  for  home  use  and  some  were  washing  their 
clothes.  Our  party  of  fifty  Americans  was  there 
trying  to  get  a  drink;  our  Turkish  drivers  were 
there  trying  to  water  their  two  dozen  horses;  and 
from  over  the  hills  came  armies  of  goats  and  sheep 
to  get  their  noon-day  drink.  The  scramble  and 
clatter  of  this  mixed  host  will  hardly  be  forgotten. 

A  study  of  the  shepherd  life  of  Palestine  and  its 
relation  to  Bible  teaching  is  very  interesting.  In 
the  morning  the  shepherds  can  be  seen  on  a  thou- 


TRAVELS  IN   THE  OLD  WORLD  373 

sand  hills  leading  their  flocks  forth  in  search  of 
good  pastures.  He  inspects  the  pasture  that  there 
may  be  no  poisonous  weeds,  snakes  or  wild  beasts 
hiding  there  to  damage  his  flock.  The  sheep  know 
his  voice  and  follow  him.  He  does  not  drive  them 
but  leads  them.  He  carries  his  club  to  defend  the 
sheep  and  his  staff  with  the  shepherd's  crook.  With 
this  he  lifts  up  those  that  fall  down  and  guides  those 
who  go  astray  back  in  the  right  path.  At  noon  he 
takes  them  to  water,  "He  leadeth  me  beside  the  still 
waters."  He  pours  it  from  the  well  into  a  stone  drink- 
ing trough  so  they  can  drink  it  or  if  it  is  a  little 
stream,  dams  it  with  dirt  that  it  may  be  still  and 
deep  enough  for  them  to  drink.  At  night  he  leads 
them  to  the  fold,  made  of  a  rock  wall  that  pro- 
tects them.  Standing  at  the  entrance  he  inspects 
every  sheep  as  it  goes  in.  If  one  is  faint  he  pours 
water  from  his  waterbag  into  the  cup  that  is  tied 
to  his  belt  and  lets  the  sheep  drink  from  his  own 
cup.  "My  cup  runneth  over."  If  the  ears,  heads 
and  legs  are  hurt  from  the  briars  and  flies,  he  pours 
on  the  healing,  soothing  olive  oil  from  his  cruse. 
"Thou  anointest  my  head  with  oil."  As  you  see 
these  pictures  every  day  and  everywhere  in  Pales- 
tine it  throws  a  flood  of  light  on  the  twenty-third 
psalm  and  the  tenth  chapter  of  John. 

In  the  afternoon  we  came  to  Sychar  and  viewed 
the  tomb  of  Joseph.  His  body  is  there  embalmed 
with  Egypt's  art  and  some  day  will  be  viewed,  when 
the  Turks  are  driven  out.  Near  here  out  on  the 
plain  is  Jacob's  Well.  Jacob  dug  this  well  and  used 
it  for  himself  and  flocks.    Bible  students  have  been 


374  TRAVELS  IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

puzzled  because  a  well  a  hundred  feet  deep  requir- 
ing so  much  labor  should  be  dug  by  Jacob  when 
nearby  is  plenty  of  running  water.  It  is  quite  likely 
jthe  people  refused  to  allow  Jacob  and  his  vast 
flocks  the  use  of  their  streams  and  forced  him  to 
dig  wells  to  get  water,  for  there  are  perhaps  more 
disputes  over  the  control  of  wells  and  springs  in 
this  land  than  anything  else.  Anyway  the  well  is 
no  fake.  It  is  real  and  it  is  here,  and  quite  likely 
it  has  not  been  moved  from  where  it  was.  Being 
the  only  well  anywhere  around  it  is  certainly  the 
place  where  Jesus  met  the  Samaritan  woman,  re- 
corded in  the  fourth  chapter  of  John. 

It  was  a  great  privilege  to  drink  some  water 
from  this  well  and  read  there  the  account  of  the 
Master's  visit.  Clearly  rose  the  picture  before  us. 
Jesus  was  tired  from  his  long  journey  and  rested 
by  the  well  while  the  disciples  went  into  the  town 
to  buy  their  lunch,  when  this  woman  of  the  world 
came  down  to  draw  water,  and  he  opened  up  her 
heart  to  her  in  such  a  way  as  to  make  her  hurry 
back  to  the  town  saying,  "Come,  see  a  man  which 
told  me  all  things  that  ever  I  did.  Is  not  this  the 
Christ?"  Drinking  of  the  water  of  the  well  that 
day  our  eyes  over  and  over  rested  on  His  words  to 
the  woman,  "Whosoever  drinketh  of  this  water  shall 
thirst  again;  but  whosoever  drinketh  of  the  water 
which  I  shall  give  him  shall  never  thirst,  but  it  shall 
be  in  him  a  well  of  water  springing  up  into  ever- 
lasting life. 

On  our  second  visit  we  found  a  Catholic  church 
being  built  over  this  well.    It  was  almost  complete 


TRAVELS  IN   THE   OLD  WORLD  375 

and  the  well  was  at  the  altar.  One  consideration  in 
building  it  was  the  revenue  from  tourists  who  will 
be  charged  an  admission  fee. 

Late  in  the  evening  we  reached  the  town  of  Na- 
bulous,  which  is  the  modern  name  for  Shechem.  It 
is  a  town  of  25,000  people,  a  large  percent  Moham- 
medans, but  some  Jews  and  Christians,  and  is  lo- 
cated between  Mt.  Ebal  and  Mt.  Gerizim.  Here  on 
Mt.  Ebal  Joshua  built  an  altar  unto  God  (Josh. 
8:30)  and  the  people  with  the  ark  of  Israel  were 
placed  half  on  one  mountain  and  half  on  the  other, 
and  repeated  the  laws  of  blessing  and  cursing  until 
the  hills  rang.  Here  in  Mt.  Gerizim  the  Samaritans 
have  worshipped  since  long  before  the  time  of 
Christ,  (they  claim  since  the  days  of  Joshua) .  They 
compose  a  sect  of  about  a  hundred  and  eighty,  all 
told.  They  accept  only  the  first  four  books  of  the 
Bible  and  conduct  their  worship  like  the  ancient 
Jews.  They  have  a  temple  on  Gerizim  where  they 
conduct  much  of  their  worship  at  the  time  of  feasts 
and  special  occasions,  and  they  also  have  a  church 
down  in  the  town.  Here  the  high  priest  met  us 
graciously  and  showed  us  the  ancient  scroll  claimed 
to  have  been  made  by  the  great  grandson  of  Aaron. 
It  was  marvelously  new  and  well  kept  to  be  han- 
dled constantly  without  protection  for  several  thou- 
sand years.  The  old  fellow  looked  as  if  he  hardly 
expected  us  to  swallow  the  pill. 

A  number  of  tourists  had  arrived  ahead  of  our 
party  leaving  room  for  only  a  part  of  our  company 
in  the  hotel.  The  rest  of  us  found  quarters  in  a 
Catholic    Monastery    which    Dr.    Best   very   aptly 


876  TRAVELS  IN   THE   OLD  WORLD 

named  "Billy  Goat  Inn."  The  horses,  donkeys  and 
goats  used  the  first  story  and  we  used  the  second. 
Our  quarters  and  fare  was  not  all  that  could  be  de- 
sired. The  priest  in  charge  of  the  livery  stable  was 
a  talkative  old  monk  who  had  more  regard  for  cere- 
mony than  for  cleanliness,  and  moreover  he  loved 
his  ease  and  his  wine.  We  found  a  company  of  mis- 
sion teachers  from  Egypt  en  route  to  Jerusalem 
and  found  much  interest  in  the  report  of  their  work. 
Sleep  was  not  what  it  might  have  been.  It  was  dog 
days  and  also  dog  nights  and  there  seemed  to  be  a 
canine  convention  going  on  in  town  with  some  diffi- 
culty as  to  selecting  a  chairman.  Dr.  Henry  Van 
Dyke  says  there  are  a  million  dogs  in  Shechem  and 
they  howl  all  night.  The  word  of  a  Presbyterian 
must  be  taken. 

We  found  Shechem  the  first  well-watered  place 
we  had  seen  except  along  the  Jordan.  There  are  a 
number  of  springs  and  streams  which  bless  the  land 
and  cause  to  grow  much  fruit  and  flowers.  This 
with  the  striking  location  between  the  two  moun- 
tains make  it  a  splendid  location  for  a  town. 

Shechem  was  once  the  home  of  Abraham,  and 
later  on  of  Jacob.  In  later  years  Joshua  wrought 
mighty  works  around  it.  It  was  set  apart  as  one  of 
the  cities  of  refuge.  Here  Reheboam  was  made  king. 
Later  Abimelech  destroyed  the  place.  Later  on  it 
was  rebuilt  by  Jereboam.  The  dust  of  Jacob  and 
Joseph  rests  here,  and  here  Jesus  himself  made 
visits. 

As  we  drove  out  of  Shechem  early  in  the  morning 
a  crowd  of  lepers  crowded  about  begging  for  back- 


TRAVELS  IN   THE   OLD  WORLD  377 

shish.  So  eager  were  they  to  get  a  few  pennies  that 
they  paid  no  attention  to  the  requirement  to  keep  the 
distance,  but  crowded  about  our  carriages  in  a  way 
that  was  not  comfortable.  We  threw  a  little  money 
as  far  as  we  could  and  while  the  poor  half-dead 
creatures  scrambled  for  it  we  made  our  escape. 

Our  first  stop  of  interest  was  at  the  town  of  Sa- 
maria. We  felt  our  carriages  in  the  road  and  a  few 
of  us  went  through  the  modern  village,  up  the  hill 
to  the  ruins  of  the  ancient  city,  which  was  as  great 
and  gay  as  the  modern  town  is  poor  and  dirty.  We 
were  now  in  the  territory  that  belonged  to  the  tribe 
of  Manasseh,  having  traveled  yesterday  through 
that  of  Ephraim.  Here  on  this  great  hill  that  rises 
above  the  others  round  about  was  the  proud  and 
mighty  city  of  Samaria. 

From  the  ruins  that  now  are  seen  the  imagination 
can  picture  the  great  city  that  once  sat  upon  this 
commanding  spot,  and  ruled  the  land  around. 
Standing  in  the  ruins  of  Ahab's  palace  we  looked 
far  and  wide  over  the  holy  hills ;  even  out  upon  the 
waters  of  the  Mediterranean  Sea.  It  would  be 
hard  to  find  a  place  whose  natural  location  and 
beauty  was  better  suited  for  a  city.  It  was  called 
the  "Crown  of  Pride  of  Ephraim,  the  flower  of 
his  glorious  beauty  which  is  on  the  head  of  the 
fat  valley." 

The  city  was  built  by  Omri,  king  of  Israel,  and 
was  the  capitol  of  the  ten  tribes.  It  was  besieged 
by  Ben  Hadad  until  an  awful  famine  came  upon  it 
and  the  head  of  an  ass  sold  for  eighty  pieces  of 
silver,  and  mothers  cooked  and  ate  their  own  chil- 


378  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

dren.  2  Ki.  6:29.  Again  it  was  besieged  by  Shal- 
manezer,  King  of  Syria,  and  the  people  were  taken 
and  carried  away  to  the  cities  of  the  Medes.  It  was 
a  city  of  wickedness  and  idolatry.  Paul  and  Barna- 
bas preached  here  as  also  did  Philip,  Peter  and 
John.  There  is  no  record  of  Jesus  visiting  the  city 
though  it  is  likely  He  did,  as  it  lay  in  His  path  to 
and  from  Nazareth. 

It  would  be  hard  to  find  the  ruins  of  a  city  that 
have  known  more  blood  and  shame.  Here  Herod 
lived  in  sin  and  luxury.  Here  in  jealous  rage  he 
slew  his  wife,  Marianne,  who  haunted  him  until  half 
crazed,  he  lamented  for  her  in  awful  agony  when 
his  memory  was  not  drowned  by  his  indecent  revel- 
eries.  Here  he  also  strangled  his  two  sons.  Walk- 
ing in  the  ruins  of  Herod's  Palace  where  he  lived  in 
sin  and  luxury  I  found  a  Roman  coin  that  belonged 
to  his  day.    Perhaps  it  had  been  in  his  sinful  hands. 

But  Samaria  is  best  known  as  the  home  of  Ahab 
and  Jezebel.  Here  this  weak,  depraved  man  and 
this  devil  possessed  woman — the  meanest  that  ever 
lived — wrought  their  devilment.  Here  Elijah  con- 
tended with  them  and  delivered  the  messages  of 
God.  Here  they  both  met  their  violent  death-fitting 
ends  of  their  disgraceful  careers.  One  day  he  went 
out  in  royal  chariot  to  battle,  and  came  back  with 
his  chariot  wet  with  his  own  blood.  One  day  Jehu 
drove  by  and  seeing  Jezebel  in  the  window  ordered 
her  thrown  down.  Her  body  was  dashed  to  pieces 
and  the  dogs  ate  her  flesh. 

Just  after  passing  Samaria  we  came  upon  the 
new  railroad,  that  is  being  built  from  the  coast  to 


TRAVELS  IN   THE   OLD  WORLD  379 

Jerusalem  via  Samaria.  The  most  of  the  work  was 
being  done  by  women  and  girls,  some  of  whom  were 
as  young  as  fourteen.  In  the  burning  sun  they 
were  carrying  heavy  burdens  of  stone,  ties  and 
rails;  digging  with  picks  and  shovels;  laying  the 
rails  and  spiking  them  down,  while  Turkish  sol- 
diers uniformed  and  armed  were  seeing  that  the 
work  was  properly  done.  We  also  saw  numbers 
of  men  building  the  carriage  road  through  the  coun- 
try. This  as  well  as  the  railroad  is  built  by  the 
Turkish  government.  Men  were  breaking  rock  all 
day  in  the  heat  for  the  sum  of  twenty  cents. 

Passing  out  of  the  hills  we  came  to  the  plain  of 
Dothan.  It  is  a  plain  of  beauty  and  productiveness 
and  under  modern  agriculture  like  other  sections, 
could  produce  wonderful  crops.  The  plain  was  full 
of  grazing  flocks,  as  it  was  when  Joseph  came  to 
the  aid  of  his  brethren  here  where  they  had  come  to 
pasture  their  herds.  It  was  here  the  brothers  sold 
Joseph  to  the  Midianites  and  drenching  his  coat  (his 
dead  mother  made  him)  in  the  blood  of  a  kid  took 
it  back  to  his  father  with  the  story  that  a  wild  beast 
had  devoured  him.  I  was  sitting  in  the  carriage 
reading  the  account,  "They  lifted  up  their  eyes 
and  behold  a  company  of  Ishmaelites  came  from 
Gilead  with  their  camels  bearing  spicery  and  balm 
and  myrrh  going  to  carry  it  down  to  Egypt.  And 
Judah  said  unto  his  brethren,  'What  profit  is  it  if 
we  slay  our  brother  and  conceal  his  blood?  Come 
let  us  sell  him  to  Ishmaelites.' "  Gen.  37  26:28. 
Glancing  up  to  get  the  setting  of  the  story  I  saw  a 
company  of  Arabians  with  a  caravan  of  camels  com- 


380  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

ing  across  the  plain  loaded  with  merchandise  for 
Egypt.  Looking  at  the  dark  faces  of  IshmaePs  sons 
and  the  stately  tread  of  the  long  train  of  camels  I 
cou'd  easily  imagine  how  the  cruel  brothers  turned 
over  Joseph  to  a  similar  company  for  a  small  sum 
of  money  and  went  home  to  their  father  with  their 
lying  tale,  while  the  lad  followed  the  camels  over 
the  hills  to  Egypt  a  slave  but  in  God's  providence 
to  be  their  master  as  well  as  ruler  of  Egypt. 

Passing  from  the  plain  of  Dothan  we  came  to 
Jenin  where  in  the  welcome  shade  of  friendly  trees 
by  singing  streams,  we  ate  our  lunch  and  rested 
from  our  journey.  The  real  name  of  the  place  is 
En  Garni  im  which  meant  fountain  of  gardens.  It 
was  given  to  the  tribe  of  Issachar.  Quite  a  little 
town  has  gathered  about  these  fountains  which  are 
perpetual  and  abundant,  but  in  Bible  history  the 
place  has  little  significance  and  is  mentioned  only 
once.  Our  visit,  however,  was  very  pleasant  because 
of  the  water  and  shade  which  are  two  comforts  sel- 
dom found  in  overland  travels  in  Palestine.  Often 
the  scarcity  of  water  is  a  real  hardship  and  at  times 
it  must  be  bought  at  a  good  price.  On  the  second 
tour  we  found  a  railroad  station  at  Jenin  on  the  new 
road  to  Jerusalem  and  a  village  going  up.  It  was 
now  a  British  garrison  with  a  company  of  soldiers. 
A  monument  here  marked  a  battle  with  the  Turks 
and  not  far  away  General  Allenby's  army  captured 
100,000  prisoners. 

Another  thing  of  interest  at  Jenin  was  the  mid- 
day gathering  of  the  flocks  of  goats  and  sheep  for 
water  and  rest.    Numbers  of  different  flocks  min- 


TRAVELS  IN   THE   OLD  WORLD  381 

gled  together  and  lay  down  for  rest  after  satisfying 
their  thirst  from  the  streams.  I  have  never  seen 
so  many  sheep  and  goats,  and  I  was  wondering  how 
the  owners  would  ever  get  their  own  flocks  sepa- 
rated from  the  others,  but  when  the  time  came  to 
go  back  to  the  pastures  with  the  herds,  I  saw  the 
Scripture  again  before  my  eyes.  Each  shepherd 
called  his  own  sheep  by  name  and  they  arose  from 
their  rest  and  followed  him  away,  none  lagging  and 
none  going  astray.  Oh,  that  the  sheep  of  the  Lord 
would  do  as  well! 

Surrounded  on  all  sides  by  these  flocks  and  their 
shepherds,  we  found  many  things  to  interest  us, 
and  we  could  have  watched  them  for  many  hours. 
In  the  midst  of  the  flocks  we  saw  two  dark  face 
shepherds  busily  engaged  in  trade.  It  seemed  one 
desired  to  purchase  an  old  bell  wether  from  the 
other's  flock.  They  went  over  all  the  qualities  of 
the  goat  in  question  and  waxed  warm  and  emphatic 
in  their  discussion.  The  purchaser  seemed  unwill- 
ing to  accept  the  statements  of  the  owner  until  he 
grasped  his  beard  in  his  hand  as  though  he  meant 
to  pull  it  out,  and  looking  him  hard  in  the  face  pro- 
pounded to  him  some  more  questions  in  Arabic.  The 
owner  of  the  goat  assented.  The  purchaser,  per- 
fectly satisfied,  paid  the  price  and  led  Mr.  Billy 
away  by  the  ear.  It  is  said  an  Arab  will  never  tell 
the  truth  until  you  catch  him  by  his  beard  and  swear 
him  by  that.  All  other  oaths  are  nothing,  but  he 
will  swear  the  truth  by  his  beard.  We  saw  it  done 
many  times. 

After  leaving  Jenin  we  soon  came  to  Shunem, 


382  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

the  place  where  the  "great  woman"  lived  who  built 
a  room  on  her  house  and  furnished  it  for  Elisha. 
(2  Kings  4:8).  Then  turning  a  little  northward 
we  came  out  upon  a  hill  from  which  opened  before 
us  one  of  the  most  thrilling  views  to  be  seen  in 
Palestine.  It  is  the  plain  of  Esdraelon — which  is 
also  known  by  the  name  of  Jezreel,  Megiddo,  or 
Armageddon.  This  plain  attracts  the  traveler  not 
only  for  the  richness  of  its  history,  but  also  for  its 
natural  charm.  The  entire  plain  is  made  up  of  the 
four  plains,  Dothan,  Megiddo,  Jezreel  and  Sharon, 
which  run  together  with  lines  of  hills  breaking 
through  their  lines  at  different  places.  These  plains 
run  from  the  sea  to  the  Jordan,  and  embrace  nearly 
fifteen  hundred  square  miles.  Their  fertility  is 
wonderful.  It  is  claimed  five  or  six  crops  can  be 
raised  in  a  year.  Roving  tribes  now  prey  upon  it, 
so  that  no  crop  is  safe,  and  it  is  more  a  grazing 
and  foraging  ground  of  Bedowins  than  a  home  of 
farmers.  If  it  was  irrigated  and  properly  culti- 
vated there  is  no  limit  to  the  harvests  it  would 
yield.  In  all  the  land  there  is  no  rain  from  April 
until  November.  Then  it  rains  constantly  until 
spring.  In  spite  of  these  conditions  good  crops  are 
raised,  since  the  porous  limestone  soil  absorbs  the 
rain  and  gives  it  back  in  dews  until  the  crop  is 
made.  Yet  if  the  land  was  irrigated  it  would,  of 
course,  far  exceed  its  present  yield. 

But  the  yield  of  history  from  this  plain  has  been 
greater  than  would  be  the  yield  of  grain  under  all 
the  rains  of  heaven.  This  plain  has  been  the  battle- 
ground of  the  centuries.     Being  the  natural  meet- 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  383 

ing  point  of  travel  from  all  directions,  and  being 
well  suited  for  a v  battleground,  it  has  furnished  a 
stage  for  many  armies  to  meet  and  act  out  their 
bloody  tragedies.  Here  King  Josiah  was  killed 
fighting  the  armies  of  Egypt ;  here  Gideon,  with  his 
three  hundred,  put  to  flight  the  Midianites  (we 
walked  beside  the  very  brook  where  they  drank  and 
looked  on  their  battlefield)  ;  here  Israel  met  their 
miserable  defeat  under  King  Saul,  and  there  before 
us,  on  Gilboa,  he  fell  upon  his  sword.  On  a  portion 
of  this  plain  the  dauntless  woman,  Judge  Deborah, 
defeated  the  army  of  the  mighty  Sisera.  So  great 
has  been  its  history  in  the  wars  of  Palestine,  that 
many  Bible  students  have  understood  certain  pro- 
phecies to  refer  to  it  as  the  Armageddon  where  the 
armies  of  the  Lord  and  the  devil  shall  meet  in  the 
last  great  battle  to  fight  the  final  conflict  for  world 
mastery.  It  was  nearby  the  decisive  battle  was 
fought  in  1918  that  defeated  the  Turks  in  Palestine 
and  saved  the  land  to  Freedom  and  Christianity. 
Was  not  this  the  Armageddon  of  the  Turks? 

Just  before  us  yonder  stands  Little  Hermon  and 
Mount  Carmel,  where  a  battle  such  as  the  world 
never  saw  before  took  place  when  Elijah,  single 
handed,  met  Ahab  and  Jezebel  with  their  four  hun- 
dred priests  of  Baal,  and  vanquished  them  all  and 
gained  the  day  for  God.  On  the  top  here  he  built 
his  altar,  and  the  Baalites  built  theirs.  They  called 
upon  their  God,  and  the  old  prophet  grew  sarcastic 
in  his  righteous  zeal  and  told  them  to  call  louder, 
for  their  god  was  gone  on  a  journey,  was  asleep  or 
had  grown  hard  of  hearing.    Then  he  poured  water 


384  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

on  the  wood  of  the  altar  that  they  might  know  he 
had  no  magic  fire,  and  turning  his  face  up  to  God, 
challenged  Him  to  save  His  name.  The  fire  came, 
and  the  sacrifice,  the  altar  and  the  water  were  all 
consumed.  Then  he  sent  his  servant  seven  times  to 
look  toward  the  sea  yonder  for  a  cloud,  for  he  was 
claiming  rain  in  the  name  of  God  to  break  the 
drought  of  nearly  four  years.  On  the  seventh  jour- 
ney the  servant  reported  a  cloud  like  a  man's  hand, 
but  it  was  large  enough  for  the  old  prophet.  He 
ordered  the  people  to  hurry  down  the  mountain  that 
they  be  not  caught  in  the  abundance  of  rain  that 
was  coming  from  the  Lord.  It  is  thrilling  anywhere 
and  any  time  to  read  the  heroic  deeds  of  the  prophet 
Elijah,  but  how  much  more  so  to  read  it  at  Mt. 
Carmel? 

And  yonder  is  Mount  Tabor,  rising  up  in  the  plain 
like  a  volcano,  though  not  so  pointed  on  the  top.  Its 
top  is  covered  with  ruins  of  fortifications  where  it 
was  occupied  at  different  times  by  Canaanites,  Sara- 
cens, Franks  and  Turks.  It  made  a  splendid  fort 
and  gave  command  of  all  the  surrounding  plain. 
The  only  living  soul  on  the  mountain  is  a  monk,  who 
keeps  a  Catholic  church  which  is  in  ruins. 

We  passed  Endor,  where  Saul  in  his  weakness 
and  sin,  sought  the  witch  at  night  to  help  him  out 
of  his  trouble,  since  he  had  cut  off  all  access  to  his 
God.  And  also  the  village  of  Nain,  where  Jesus 
brought  joy  to  the  poor  widow's  heart  and  home  by 
meeting  the  funeral  procession  that  bore  the  son  to 
his  grave  and  restoring  him  to  life  and  to  his  mother. 
How  Jesus  must  have  been  honored  and  loved  in 


TRAVELS  IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  385 

that  home!  It  would  be  interesting  to  know  what 
became  of  this  boy  in  after  life.  Did  he  become  a 
great  disciple?  What  became  of  all  of  those  souls 
Jesus  helped  so  much?  If  we  read  of  them  again 
their  identity  is  not  known.  They  must  have  stood 
by  their  Lord. 

It  was  late  in  the  evening  when  we  left  the  plain 
and  climbed  the  hills  toward  Nazareth.  It  was  a 
steep,  hard  climb,  for  Nazareth  is  high  up  in  the 
hills.  When  we  reached  the  top  we  paused  for  a 
last  view  of  the  way  we  had  come.  The  wide  plain, 
with  its  flocks  and  caravans;  Tabor  and  Carmel, 
and  those  historic  hills  so  rich  in  Bbile  stories  stand- 
ing there  before  us  in  the  evening  light  made  a 
picture  never  to  be  forgotten.  Passing  on  around 
another  hill,  the  town  of  Nazareth  came  suddenly 
upon  our  vision.  What  thoughts  come  to  the  heart 
when  you  come  to  Nazareth !  Here  Jesus,  our  Sav- 
iour, spent  the  years  of  his  childhood  and  youth — 
years  of  which  we  know  so  little  and  have  won- 
dered so  much.  What  meaneth  these  great  silences 
in  the  life  of  our  Lord?  How  did  He  spend  them? 
What  deeds  did  He  do  and  journeys  did  He  take 
about  this  place?  Here  He  played  as  a  child 
and  roamed  these  hills.  Later  on  He  worked,  for 
He  was  a  working  man,  and  with  the  hands  that 
helped  God  make  the  world,  He  made  things  with 
Joseph's  tools  as  He  learned  the  carpenter's  trade. 
Jesus  Christ,  the  Saviour  of  the  world,  working  at 
the  carpenter's  trade ! 

We  found  Nazareth  a  cleaner,  nicer  town  than 
any  we  had  seen.    The  houses  made  a  better  show- 


386  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD  WORLD 

ing,  and  the  people  looked  happier,  brighter,  and 
showed  more  strength  of  character.  The  boys  were 
bright,  and  the  girls  were  pretty,  and  everybody 
was  friendly — so  friendly  that  they  were  sometimes 
troublesome.  This  is  due  to  the  fact  that  a  smaller 
per  cent,  of  the  inhabitants  are  Turks;  and  sec- 
ondly, because  Protestant  missions  are  doing  a 
splendid  work  among  the  natives.  Nowhere  did  we 
see  more  fruitful  evidence  of  missionary  efforts. 
Our  hotel  was  a  clean,  pleasant,  home-like  place. 
About  its  doors  the  women  and  girls,  as  well  as 
others  gathered  to  welcome  us  and  offer  for  sale 
articles  made  by  their  own  hands  at  very  small 
prices.  They  were  persistent,  but  so  pleasant  and 
charming  that  you  could  not  turn  them  away.  One 
of  them  especially,  named  Marie,  with  her  sweet 
face,  charming  smile,  big,  dark  eyes,  and  yet  re- 
fined manners,  would  win  her  way  anywhere  and 
sell  things  to  almost  anybody.  Those  gruff  trav- 
elers who  turn  away  every  other  plea,  usually  sur- 
render before  Marie's  smile  and  carry  home  some 
lace  work  from  her  hands. 

After  supper,  Philip  secured  for  us  an  invitation 
to  a  marriage,  and  we  all  went.  It  was  in  a  home 
not  far  from  the  hotel.  We  were  very  graciously 
received  and  invited  in.  We  were  asked  to  take 
our  choice  of  sitting  on  our  feet  on  the  floor  or 
standing.  We  chose  the  latter,  because  we  could  do 
it  with  more  ease  and  comfort,  and  we  could  see 
better.  I  am  truly  glad  our  young  folks  in  this 
country  do  not  get  married  like  they  do  over  there, 
both  for  their  own  benefit  and  for  the  benefit  of 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  387 

their  neighbors.  It  takes  a  whole  week  to  get 
through  the  ceremony.  Nearly  all  night  for  that 
time  the  neighbors  come  filling  the  house  and  the 
yard,  and  the  noise  they  keep  up  would  put  an  old- 
time  Southern  serenade  so  far  in  the  rear  that  it 
would  never  catch  up.  They  have  drums  made  of 
sheep  skins  stretched  over  jars,  and  other  musical 
instruments  too  numerous  and  hideous  to  talk  about. 
Whistles,  flutes,  stringed  instruments  like  fiddles 
and  banjos — only  worse — tin  pans,  bones  they  beat 
together,  and  other  things.  These  are  kept  going 
constantly  accompanied  with  a  continual  moaning, 
chanting  cry  from  the  entire  crowd.  Many  are 
dancing — the  men  and  women  separately.  It  con- 
sists mostly  of  whirling  round  and  round  on  their 
toes  or  heels  like  a  top,  until  they  look  exhausted 
and  silly ;  but  I  am  sure  if  I  could  do  the  trick  at  all 
I  would  look  sillier  than  they  do  before  I  had  gone 
half  as  far.  This  goes  on  for  a  week,  and  then  the 
ceremony  culminates  with  the  religious  rite  that 
ties  the  knot.  I  know  it  is  a  relief  when  the  couple 
are  gone  on  their  journey.  My  sympathy  goes  out 
to  a  family  with  half  a  dozen  girls  to  get  married. 
If  there  are  old  maids  and  bachelors  in  a  land  like 
that,  who  could  wonder  at  it?  Better  be  single  than 
go  through  such  torture. 

The  next  morning  we  visited  the  places  of  interest 
about  the  town.  Among  them,  the  church  which  is 
said  to  be  on  the  site  of  Joseph's  home  and  his  car- 
penter shop.  While  these  places  are  uncertain,  we 
did  not  let  it  detract  from  the  charm  of  our  visit, 
for  we  knew  it  was  somewhere  near  here  the  Saviour 


388  TRAVELS  IN   THE   OLD  WORLD 

lived  with  Mary  and  Joseph  in  their  humble  home, 
and  near  here  was  Joseph's  shop  where  Jesus 
worked.  There  is  one  place  in  Nazareth,  however, 
that  is  genuine,  and  over  it  the  Catholics  have  not 
built  a  monastery.  It  is  the  Virgin's  Fountain,  the 
only  source  of  water  supply  for  the  town.  It  has 
been  here  since  before  the  days  of  Jesus.  Here 
Jesus  came  for  water  for  His  mother,  and  here  often 
He  drank  from  the  stream  that  flowed  then,  as  it 
does  now,  to  fill  the  pitchers  of  those  who  came  to 
get  its  life.  It  was  at  this  fountain,  mentioned  in 
Ben  Hur,  where  the  soldiers  paused  to  get  water  on 
their  march  from  Jerusalem  to  Rome  with  Ben 
Hur,  the  young  Jew,  who  was  condemned  to  the  gal- 
leys for  a  crime  he  did  not  commit.  Jesus  was  at 
the  fountain  at  the  time,  and  seeing  the  tired  young 
Jew,  he  brought  him  some  water  from  the  fountain. 
All  his  life  Ben  Hur  could  never  forget  that  water 
and  the  face  of  the  one  who  gave  it  to  him. 

While  visiting  these  scenes  in  Cana,  some  one 
stole  my  Bible  from  the  carriage.  It  brought  sad- 
ness to  my  heart,  for  I  had  lost  a  friend.  With  this 
Book  in  my  hand  I  had  come  over  the  sacred  places 
of  the  Holy  Hills  and  read  the  account  in  the  very 
places  where  they  occurred.  I  had  marked  these 
passages  and  noted  the  dates  of  the  visit.  I  had 
made  many  notes  and  impressions,  as  well  as  ser- 
monic  suggestions.  Over  the  seas  this  Bible  had 
been  by  my  side.  It  was  given  to  me  by  the  Sunday- 
school  of  Thomas'  Chapel  on  the  Cartersville  Cir- 
cuit, my  first  charge  in  the  Virginia  Conference, 
and  had  been  my  companion  ever  since.    I  went  on 


TRAVELS  IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  389 

that  day  with  a  feeling  of  loneliness  and  constantly 
came  to  me  the  words  I  keep  posted  in  the  fly-leaf 
of  my  Bible : 

"We've  traveled  together,  my  Bible  and  I, 
Through  all  kinds  of  weather  with  smile  or  with 

sigh; 
In  sorrow  or  sunshine,  in  tempest  or  calm, 
Thy  friendship  unchanging,  my  life  and  my  psalm. 

"We've  travelled  together,  my  Bible  and  I, 
When  life  had  grown  weary  and  death  e'en  was 

nigh; 
But  all  through  the  darkness  of  mist  or  of  wrong, 
I  found  thee  a  solace,  a  prayer  or  a  song. 

"So  now  who  shall  part  us,  my  Bible  and  I? 
Shall  isms  or  schisms  or  new  lights  who  try, 
Shall  shadows  or  substances  or  stones  for  good, 
Supplant  thy  sound  wisdom,  give  folly  instead? 

"Ah,  no !  my  dear  Bible,  exponent  of  light, 
Thou  sword  of  the  Spirit,  put  error  to  flight; 
And  still  through  life's  journey  until  my  last  sigh, 
We'll  travel  together,  my  Bible  and  I." 


CHAPTER  XXX. 
ON  LAKE  GALILEE. 

From  Nazareth  we  turned  our  faces  toward  the 
Lake  of  Galilee,  and  winding  through  the  hills,  soon 
came  to  Cana,  where  Jesus  attended  the  marriage 
and  changed  the  water  into  wine.  Passing  on  still 
northward,  we  came  in  the  afternoon  to  the  hill 
called  "The  Horns  of  Hattin,"  supposed  to  be  the 
place  where  Jesus  preached  the  "Sermon  on  the 
Mount."  If  this  was  the  location,  it  furnished  a 
splendid  place  for  a  pulpit  on  the  spur  of  the  hill, 
with  the  sloping  green  fields  where  the  congrega- 
tion could  sit  and  listen. 

Here  we  had  our  first  view  of  Lake  Galilee,  and 
swinging  down  the  road  in  a  brisk  trot  our  horses 
soon  landed  us  on  the  lake  shore.  I  hesitate  to  write 
of  my  impressions  that  day  and  night  on  Galilee. 
It  stands  out  in  my  heart  as  one  of  the  greatest 
days  of  my  life,  and  as  the  days  go  on,  memory 
seems  to  bring  me  closer  to  the  life  that  throbbed 
in  my  heart  that  day. 

It  isn't  the  ruins  that  make  the  shores  of  Lake 
Galilee  interesting.  In  the  days  of  Jesus  almost 
the  entire  lake  shore  was  full  of  throbbing,  thriv- 
ing life.  Nine  flourishing  cities  were  on  the  shore, 
and  the  busy  life  of  fishermen  and  merchantmen 
kept  the  shore  line  and  the  waters  the  busiest  place 
in  Palestine.  Now  all  these  cities  are  gone,  save 
dirty  Tiberius,  and  so  completely  has  been  the  de- 
struction that  there  are  hardly  any  ruins  to  look 


TRAVELS  IN   THE   OLD  WORLD  391 

upon.  Only  in  the  last  years  were  the  ruins  of 
Capernaum  located  and  brought  to  light.  All  the 
boats  but  one  or  two  have  passed  from  the  waters, 
leaving  no  wreck  of  their  hulls  on  the  shore.  The 
teeming  multitudes  have  passed  away,  leaving  no 
graves  to  mark  their  resting  place.  The  great  fish- 
ing business  is  gone,  leaving  not  a  strand  of  a  net 
on  the  shore.  As  though  lifted  up  on  the  winds 
and  carried  out  of  the  world,  all  the  life,  cities 
and  people  of  those  busy  days  have  gone  away, 
leaving  no  tracks  behind  them.  So  it  is  not  in  the 
life  of  Galilee  we  take  interest,  for  there  is  no 
place  quieter  and  more  lonely,  although  it  is  just  as 
great  in  possibilities  now  as  it  was  in  the  days 
of  Jesus.  The  waters  are  full  of  fish,  which  come 
in  schools  to  the  shore  and  to  your  boat  side,  and 
since  Peter  and  John  are  gone,  there  is  nobody 
there  to  catch  them.  Who  ever  heard  of  a  Turk 
catching  fish?    To  them  that  would  be  disgrace. 

Nor  is  it  in  monuments  and  relics  Galilee  holds 
its  charm.  Strange  as  it  may  seem,  modern  genius 
and  devotion  has  done  no  building  here,  but  has 
left  the  spot  untouched.  The  Catholics  could  not 
build  a  monastery  over  the  lake,  nor  could  the  Turks 
cover  it  with  a  mosque,  so  it  has  remained  un- 
touched. 

It  is  in  memory's  spiritual  vibrations  that  the 
charm  of  Galilee  lives.  Coming  back  through  the 
centuries,  deeds  done  along  this  shore  live  as  a 
film  that  runs  its  pictures  before  your  soul.  The 
breeze  blowing  over  the  lake  is  full  of  voices  speak- 
ing; the  flowers  blooming  along  the  shore  line  are 


392  TRAVELS  IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

full  of  faces  looking;  every  wave  that  rolls  over 
the  waters  and  ripples  on  the  shore  brings  boats 
of  fishermen,  some  empty  and  some  full ;  every  rock 
has  a  history  and  seems  to  be  a  living  form.  A 
Presence  strange  and  real  broods  over  Lake  Galilee. 
It  greets  you;  it  grips  you;  it  calls  you;  it  thrills 
you ;  it  fills  you ;  it  puts  its  hand  upon  you  and  holds 
you. 

We  took  a  boat  ride  to  the  upper  end  of  the  lake 
to  view  the  ruins  of  Capernaum,  and  on  that  trip 
we  got  an  illustration  of  what  the  winds  can  do 
when  they  blow  down  the  gorge  and  stir  the  waters 
of  the  lake  until  they  seem  to  be  mad.  We  were 
shaken  by  the  waves  and  drenched  by  the  spray, 
and  when  we  reached  the  end  of  the  lake  the  water 
was  so  rough  the  boat  could  not  land,  and  the  boat- 
men carried  us  out  on  their  backs.  When  we 
started  on  that  boat  ride  on  the  lake,  Phillip  put  in 
our  hand  a  card  given  by  our  hotel  proprietor  con- 
taining a  song.  Passing  over  the  waves  of  the  lake 
our  party  sang: 

"Each  gentle  dove  and  sighing  bough 
That  makes  the  eve  so  blessed  to  me, 
Has  something  far  diviner  now, 
It  bears  me  back  to  Galilee! 

Chorus  : 

O  Galilee!  Sweet  Galilee! 

Where  Jesus  loved  so  much  to  be ; 
O  Galilee!  Sweet  Galilee! 

Come  sing  again  thy  song  to  me ! 


TRAVELS  IN   THE   OLD  WORLD  393 

"Each  flowery  glen  and  mossy  dell 
Where  happy  birds  in  song  agree ; 
Thro'  sunny  morn  their  praises  tell 
Of  sights  and  sounds  in  Galilee. 

0  Galilee!  Sweet  Galilee! 

Where  Jesus  loved  so  much  to  be ; 
0  Galilee!  Sweet  Galilee! 

Come  sing  again  thy  song  to  me ! 

"And  when  I  read  the  thrilling  love 

Of  Him  who  walked  upon  the  sea, 
I  long,  oh  how  I  long,  once  more 
To  follow  Him  in  Galilee! 

0  Galilee!  Sweet  Galilee! 

Where  Jesus  loved  so  much  to  be ; 
0  Galilee!  Sweet  Galilee! 

Come  sing  again  thy  song  to  me ! 

Jesus  did  love  to  dwell  in  Galilee.  He  loved  it  be- 
cause of  its  beauty  and  charm,  but  He  loved  it  more 
because  the  people  were  here.  The  struggling, 
troubled,  hungry,  suffering,  sinful  people  were  here 
in  multitudes,  and  His  heart  drew  Him  here  with 
them.  He  did  not  withdraw  from  men,  save  for  rest 
and  prayer,  nor  did  he  seek  the  exclusive  classes.  He 
sought  the  masses.  Where  they  were  He  went.  His 
burdens  were  theirs.  Their  troubles  were  on  His 
heart.  These  things  brought  him  to  Galilee.  Here 
were  the  masses,  the  working,  struggling  folks,  and 
He  loved  them. 


394  TRAVELS  IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

When  we  returned  from  our  boat  ride  we  found 
our  quarters  in  the  Hotel  Tiberius,  in  the  town  by 
that  name.  It  seems  strange  that  the  only  town  that 
has  survived  the  storm  of  the  centuries  since  the 
days  of  Jesus  is  this  town  that  bears  the  name  of 
its  founder,  one  of  the  vilest  of  Roman  rulers.  And 
stranger  still,  modern  life  has  actually  cast  aside  the 
name  Galilee  for  this  beautiful  lake,  so  closely  linked 
with  the  life  of  Jesus,  and  given  it  the  name  "Sea 
of  Tiberius."  All  the  Christian  world  ought  to  rebel 
against  such  a  shame  and  see  that  it  bears  the  name 
Galilee.  The  town  of  Tiberius  is  as  dirty  and  ugly 
as  a  town  can  be.  Missionary  work  under  the  Free 
Church  of  Scotland  has  been  going  on  here  for  over 
twenty  years,  but  there  is  a  great  deal  to  be  done 
yet.  Tiberius  is  so  full  of  fleas  that  it  has  long  been 
called  the  home  of  the  "King  of  the  Fleas." 

Our  hotel  was  a  clean  and  comfortable  one,  kept 
by  German-Americans  for  the  benefit  of  tourists. 
We  were  hungry  when  called  to  the  table,  and  the 
supper  they  served  us  was  a  good  one  and  well  pre- 
pared.   The  following  is  the  menu : 

Soup  with  Sagon. 

Fried  Fish  from  the  lake. 

Croquets.        Vegetable  Marrow.        Tomatoes. 

Roast  leg  of  Lamb.       Potatoes.       Nature's    Salad. 

Pudding.  Raspberry  Tart. 

Bread.  Butter.         Fruit.  Coffee. 

Brother  Williams  and  myself  were  assigned  to 
a  r.oom  on  the  third  story,  the  only  room  on  that 


TRAVELS  IN   THE   OLD  WORLD  395 

floor.  Our  room  opened  on  a  porch  facing  the  lake, 
which  we  had  all  to  ourselves  up  there  away  from 
the  crowd.  Who  could  sleep  a  night  like  that?  The 
moon  rose  over  the  hills  of  Bashan  and  sent  down 
upon  the  waters  of  Galilee  a  silvery '  charm.  The 
wind  had  ceased,  the  waves  were  still,  and  every- 
thing about  the  lake  as  quiet  as  though  asleep,  yet 
in  all  that  quietness  and  peace,  living  forms  came  to 
us  out  of  the  night,  and  voices  strong  and  loud  were 
calling  to  us  over  the  waters. 

Out  there  on  the  waters  memory  sailed  a  boat.  A 
company  were  coming  from  the  other  side.  Peter 
and  his  friends  were  handling  the  boat,  and  they 
knew  how.  A  storm  arose.  The  wind  roared.  The 
waves  dashed  as  if  in  the  lake  a  demon  seemed  to 
writhe.  The  Master  was  asleep  and  they  awoke 
Him  with  the  question:  "Carest  thou  not  that  we 
perish?"  He  arose  from  the  rest  He  was  getting 
in  the  quiet  of  the  waters  after  a  trying  day,  and 
with  His  quiet,  peaceful  face  looked  at  the  storm* 
When  His  lips  spoke  "Peace,  be  still,"  the  storm 
king  cowed,  rolled  up  his  winds  and  went  away,  for 
what  storm  can  go  on  when  His  lips  speak  "Peace 
be  still"?  Many  sinful,  troubled  souls  have  heard 
that  voice,  and  the  raging  storms  that  shook  their 
hearts  have  felt  the  calm  of  peace.  Our  souls,  in 
the  quietness  of  that  night,  were  singing: 

Master,  the  tempest  is  raging, 

The  billows  are  tossing  high ; 
The  sky  is  overshadowed  with  blackness, 

No  shelter  or  help  is  nigh ! 


396  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

"Carest  Thou  not  that  we  perish?" 

How  can'st  Thou  lie  asleep 
When  each  moment  so  madly  is  threatening 

A  grave  in  the  angry  deep  ? 

"The  winds  and  the  waves  obey  My  will, 

Peace,  be  still  Peace,  be  still !" 
Whether  the  wrath  of  the  storm  tossed  sea, 

Or  demons  or  men  or  whatever  it  be, 
No  water  can  swallow  the  ship  where  lies 

The  Master  of  ocean  and  earth  and  skies  ; 
They  all  shall  sweetly  obey  Thy  will, 

Peace,  be  still !   Peace,  be  still ! 

But  hark !  I  see  another  boat,  and  over  the  waves 
it  is  coming  through  the  night.  This  time  the  Mas- 
ter was  not  on  the  boat.  On  the  other  side  the  lake 
that  day  He  had  fed  five  thousand  men,  besides 
women  and  children  (Matt.  14),  from  the  fisher 
boy's  lunch,  showing  us  how  He  can  help  us  out  of 
hard  places  when  we  trust  Him,  and  also  how  we 
can  do  big  things  for  God  on  small  capital.  Night 
coming  on,  He  sent  the  disciples  back  across  the  sea 
in  their  little  boat  about  their  own  affairs,  and  He, 
feeling  need  of  refilling  his  soul  with  spiritual  stores 
after  His  exhausting  labor,  went  alone  in  the  moun- 
tain to  meet  His  Father  in  prayer.  But  His  eyes 
looked  out  in  the  night  and  watched  the  little  boat 
as  He  does  every  little  boat  in  which  a  child  of  His 
sails  the  sea  of  Life.  Ah !  the  little  boat  has  struck 
contrary  waves,  as  our  boats  so  often  do,  for  there 
are  so  many  contrary  waves  everywhere.     They 


TRAVELS  IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  397 

rack  every  heart  and  shake  every  soul.  We  can't 
sail  farvwithout  striking  contrary  waves.  Yonder 
is  the  little  boat  tossing  as  though  it  must  be 
swamped.  Now  it  rides  high  upon  a  wave  as  though 
it  will  be  dashed  to  pieces.  Now  it  sinks  down  in  the 
trough  of  the  sea  as  though  it  has  gone  to  its  grave 
forever.  In  the  face  of  that  storm  the  skill  of  John 
and  strength  of  Peter  are  nothing,  and  Jesus  is  not 
in  the  boat!  Ah,  if  He  were  here!  But  so  often 
when  we  need  Him  most  He  seems  so  far  away. 

But  look!  yonder  in  the  night  He  comes.  His 
white  form  is  walking  on  the  angry  waves ;  his  face 
is  looking  through  the  storm.  He  had  no  boat  to 
bring  Him,  nor  would  He  tarry  to  launch  it,  but  He 
is  coming!  He  is  coming!  Through  the  storm  He 
has  seen  His  children  in  their  trouble,  and  He  has 
come  to  their  help.  And  "when  He  entered  the  boat 
the  wind  ceased."  Of  course  it  did.  Can  the  winds 
and  storms  shake  a  heart  when  He  has  entered  it? 
Yonder  comes  the  boat  with  the  master  Pilot  in  the 
bow,  and  in  safety  it  touches  the  shore.  As  the 
boat  came  in  our  souls  again  were  singing: 

"When  at  last  I  near  the  shore, 
And  the  fearful  breakers  roar, 
Twixt  me  and  the  peaceful  rest, 
Then  while  leaning  on  Thy  breast, 
May  I  hear  Thee  say  to  me, 
'Fear  not,  I  will  pilot  thee.'  " 

But  as  I  looked  behold  across  the  lake  I  saw  com- 
ing shoreward  another  boat.    It  was  not  a  boat  of 


398  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

apostles  and  saints  but  fishermen,  and  they  had  no 
Master  with  them,  for  He  is  dead  now.  The  night 
was  gone  and  the  day  had  come.  Over  the  hills  of 
Bashan  the  sun  was  coming  up  to  travel  the  sky- 
path  I  had  watched  the  moon  move  in.  The  boat 
sat  light  in  the  water  and  by  that  and  the  tired  dis- 
appointed look  on  the  fishermen's  faces  I  judged 
they  had  toiled  all  night  which  was  the  time  the  fish 
will  enter  the  nets  and  caught  nothing.  They  were 
busy  with  the  oars,  though  their  movements  were 
mechanical  and  listless.  They  said  nothing  as  fish- 
ermen do  who  come  in  with  nets  that  are  empty. 
No  boat  was  ever  launched  on  the  waves  for  such  a 
momentous  trip.  The  church  of  the  King  was  in 
that  boat,  and  the  fate  of  the  Kingdom  depended 
upon  its  journey.  Jesus  was  dead  and  the  disciples 
had  laid  down  their  affairs  of  church  and  taken  up 
their  nets  to  fish.  Suppose  the  boat  sinks.  Or  sup- 
pose this  fishing  business  is  successful  and  be- 
comes their  life  work  instead  of  preaching? 

But  they  did  not  succeed.  Their  nets  were  empty 
but  their  hearts  were  full.  The  greatest  blessings 
sometimes  are  in  empty  barns,  empty  nets  and  ad- 
versity. The  heart  is  not  apt  to  be  full  when  the 
hands  are  full.  We  pray  for  those  who  are  in  ad- 
versity, but  those  who  succeed  need  our  prayers 
more.  In  failure  men  will  seek  God.  In  success  God 
must  seek  them.  We  have  never  known  what  bless- 
ings our  failures  and  troubles  have  been  to  us.  The 
Disciples  were  better  off  than  if  their  catch  had 
been  good.  They  were  in  a  better  position  to  meet 
their  Lord.    Christ  had  called  them  to  be  Apostles 


TRAVELS  IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  399 

and  now  they  found  that  they  failed  at  fishing. 
Their  hearts  were  troubled  and  their  minds  went 
back  as  minds  do  when  we  fail.  They  go  forward 
when  we  succeed,  and  backward  when  we  fail.  As 
Peter  put  his  great  shoulders  forward  against  the 
oars  he  made  a  motion  with  his  head  and  said, 
"Right  over  there  is  where  the  Master  saved  our 
boat  from  sinking,  John,  remember?"  John,  who 
was  guiding  the  rudder,  brushed  a  tear  from  his 
eyes  and  answered,  *'Yes,"  and  pointing  to  the 
Ga  dara  hills,  said,  "And  yonder  He  healed  the  man 
of  evil  spirits,  and  fed  the  multitude." 

A  voice  from  the  shore  called,  "Boys,  have  -you 
caught  anything?"  A  natural  question  always 
asked  a  fisherman,  and  one  a  man  with  empty 
nets  dreads  to  hear.  Peter  muttered,  "Nothing." 
The  voice  from  the  shore  again  called,  "Let  down 
your  nets  on  the  right  side  of  your  boat."  Think- 
ing he  had  seen  a  school  of  fish  working  in  the 
water  they  let  down  their  nets  on  the  right  side. 
Ah!  All  night  they  had  been  fishing  on  the  wrong 
side.  There  is  so  much  effort  on  the  wrong  side — 
the  side  Christ  does  not  want  us  to  work  on.  They 
made  a  pull  at  their  nets  and  felt  the  tug  and  jerk 
of  fish  against  the  meshes,  a  feeling  a  fisherman 
delights  to  feel.  And  then  they  drew  in  the  biggest 
haul  they  ever  made.  John  looked  up  at  the  white 
figure  on  the  shore  and  said,  "It  is  the  Lord." 
Why  did  he  say  it?  Because  there  was  something 
in  the  way  the  big  fish  came  in  that  net  and  pulled 
against  it.  And  then  the  heart  of  John  knew  his 
Master's  voice.    When  Peter  heard  that  he  jumped 


400  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

in  the  sea  and  made  for  the  shore,  leaving  boat  and 
net.  He  had  denied  his  Lord,  now  he  had  come  to 
own  Him. 

"But  when  the  day  was  breaking  Jesus  stood  on 
the  beach,  but  the  disciples  knew  not  that  it  was 
Jesus."  Yes,  he  was  on  the  beach  waiting  at  the 
end  of  their  weary  night.  He  stands  on  every 
beach  in  the  night  like  the  great  lighthouse  that  He 
is.  He  guides  the  little  boats  over  the  waves  to 
Him.  He  had  come  down  there  just  to  watch  their 
boat  come  in — to  guide  it  in.  He  was  interested 
in  His  children  and  His  church  in  that  little  boat. 
Beautiful  and  tender  is  this  touch  of  life.  Suppose 
He  had  not  been  on  the  shore  that  morning?  No, 
they  didn't  know  Him.  Often  we  fail  to  know  Him, 
so  bent  are  we  on  our  trades  and  our  troubles. 

I  saw  them  land  their  fish  and  beach  their  boat 
at  the  Master's  feet,  fishing  as  a  business  ended 
with  them  forever.  I  saw  them  sit  down  to  eat  their 
morning  meal  with  the  risen  Lord.  The  morn- 
ing light  was  gliding  the  hills  with  gold  and  throw- 
ing a  heavenly  charm  over  the  lake.  I  heard  the 
Master  say  to  Peter,  "Simon,  son  of  Jonas,  lovest 
thou  me  more  than  these?"  And  over  the  lake  I 
heard  Peter  answer,  "Yea,  Lord,  thou  knowest  all 
things,  thou  knowest  I  love  thee."  And  seeing 
them  all  upon  the  shore  together  my  soul  again  burst 
forth  in  song: 

My  soul  in  sad  exile  was  out  on  life's  sea, 

So  burdened  by  sin  and  distress 
Till  I  heard  a  sweet  voice  saying,  "Make  me  your 
choice," 

And  I  entered  the  haven  of  rest. 


TRAVELS    VN   THE   OLD   WORLD  401 

I've  anchored  my  soul  in  the  haven  of  rest, 

I'll  sail  the  white  seas  no  more ; 
The  tempest  may  sweep  o'er  the  wide  stormy  deep, 

But  in  Jesus  I'm  safe  ever  more. 

With  the  coming  of  the  glorius  day  that  followed 
that  memorable  night,  we  had  our  breakfast  and 
took  our  boat  for  a  cruise  along  the  lake.  Oh !  the 
history  dear  to  every  Christian's  heart  that  this  lake 
and  these  hills  have  known !  What  stories  they  could 
tell  if  they  would  speak.  Is  it  any  wonder  voices  are 
in  the  air  and  faces  look  from  everywhere,  and  the 
breath  comes  fast  as  you  walk  these  shores  and 
ride  these  waves?  That  morning  in  the  sunlight  a 
few  of  the  events  in  the  life  of  Jesus  enacted  in 
this  sacred  place  came  up  before  us,  but  they  were 
only  a  few.  The  most  of  the  activities  of  Jesus  re- 
corded in  the  Bible  occurred  on  and  about  the  lake 
and  in  Jerusalem,  but  how  many  deeds  these  hills 
and  shores  hold  secret  that  have  never  come  down 
to  us? 

Yonder  on  the  lake  shore  is  Magdala,  the  home 
of  Mary  Magdalene.  Along  this  shore  Jesus  chose 
eleven  of  His  disciples,  all  but  one  coming  from 
Galilee,  the  other,  Judas  Iscariot,  coming  from 
Judea.  Here  on  one  side  the  lake  on  the  green  grass 
He  fed  the  five  thousand  and  on  the  other  side  the 
four  thousand.  Here  He  healed  a  lame  man.  Here 
He  cured  Peter's  wife's  mother  of  the  fever.  Here 
He  healed  the  man  with  the  withered  hand.  A  man 
who  was  dumb  saw  him  and  spoke.  A  ruler's 
daughter  was  brought  to  life  when  she  was  dead. 


402  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

A  leper  who  met  Him  with  faith  went  away  with 
life.  A  woman  with  an  incurable  disease  for  thirty- 
eight  years  touched  His  garment  and  He  touched 
her  soul,  and  sent  her  home  whole.  The  Centurion 
nobleman,  who  came  in  behalf  of  his  sick  servant, 
was  rewarded  with  his  servant's  health.  And  the 
Scripture  mentions  a  lame  man  who  saw  His  face 
and  rose  and  walked;  and  a  palsied  man  let  down 
through  the  roof  that  got  up  and  carried  His  bed 
when  he  saw  the  Master's  face.  It  also  tells  us 
that  here  He  spoke  the  parable  of  the  Sower  and 
many  more  like  it.  It  gives  an  account  of  His  meet- 
ing the  demon  possessed  man  in  the  rugged  hills  of 
Gadara  and  cast  the  devil  into  a  herd  of  two  thou- 
sand swine  who  rushed  into  the  sea  and  were 
drowned.  I  wondered  how  those  hogs  were  gotten 
out  of  the  sea  ? 

And  I  remembered  hearing  a  good  old  Virginia 
friend  of  mine  teaching  this  lesson  once.  A  lady 
asked  him  of  he  thought  the  devils  were  drowned 
with  the  hogs.  "I  don't  know  for  certain,,,  he  said, 
"but  I  do  know  this,  if  they  were  drowned  they  have 
never  been  missed."  I  could  almost  hear  those 
Gadarenes  ask  Him  to  leave  their  land  when  He 
destroyed  their  hogs.  It  made  me  think  of  some 
folks  back  home.  I  had  seen  the  church  of  Jesus 
Christ  drive  the  greedy  hogs  of  Avarice  out  of  a 
state  that  they  might  no  longer  devour  the  helpless 
and  the  weak  in  their  troughs,  their  hoggeries,  the 
saloon,  the  gambling  den,  the  sweatshop  of  child 
slaughter,  and  the  brothel.  And  when  the  swine 
keepers  saw  their  herd  drown  in  the  sea  of  oblivion 


Travels  in  the  old  world  403 

and  public  condemnation  they  tried  to  run  the 
Church  of  Christ  and  its  servants  out  of  the  commu- 
nity. I  heard  the  devils  beg  Christ  to  let  them  go 
into  the  hogs.  A  strange  request,  but  devils  must 
have  something  to  get  into  and  destroy.  It  is  worse 
than  hell  for  a  devil  to  have  no  bodily  form  in  which 
he  can  ride  down  to  hell  and  lash  it  and  gash  it,  and 
poison  it  and  stain  it,  and  gorge  it  and  damn  it. 

As  soon  as  an  evil  spirit  destroys  one  body  by  the 
burnings  of  sin,  it  seeks  another  forthwith.  Per- 
haps an  evil  spirit's  standing  with  the  Arch  fiend  at 
the  judgment  will  depend  upon  the  number  of 
bodies  and  souls  it  has  destroyed ;  just  as  the  stand- 
ing of  a  German  submarine  commander  with  the 
Kaiser  depended  upon  how  many  boats  loaded  with 
helpless  souls  they  sent  to  the  bottom  of  the  sea. 
If  a  devil  can't  get  a  human  form  to  ravish,  it  will 
take  a  hog,  a  dog,  a  horse  or  even  some  object  that 
has  no  life.  A  runaway  train,  machinery,  a  gun, 
a  river,  a  stove,  a  knife,  are  these  not  at  times 
dwelling  places  of  demons?  So  Jesus  let  them  go 
into  the  hogs  because  it  was  against  the  law  to  keep 
hogs  in  this  land. 

I  saw  the  place — imagined  I  saw  it — where  Peter 
at  the  command  of  Jesus  caught  a  fish  with  gold  in 
his  mouth  with  which  he  paid  the  Lord's  tax  and 
his  own.  I  saw  the  place  where  Jesus  pushed  the 
boat  from  the  shore  and  using  it  for  a  pulpit 
preached  to  the  congregation  on  the  shore.  I  caught 
a  crab  from  the  waters  of  Galilee,  though  wise  men 
say  they  do  not  live  in  fresh  water.  I  picked  up 
from  the  shore  beautiful  small  white  shells  such 


404  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

as  I  never  saw  before,  and  brought  them  home.  We 
crossed  over  the  lake,  landed  near  the  outlet  of  the 
Jordan,  bathed  in  the  clear  blue  waters,  and  tak- 
ing a  last  look  over  the  scenes  Jesus  loved  so  well 
we  climbed  up  to  the  station  of  Sanak  and  boarded 
the  little  train  whose  nose  was  turned  toward  the 
hills  of  Bashan,  while  clear  and  sweet  came  the 
voice  of  John  G.  Whittier  ringing  in  our  souls : 

Faith  hath  still  its  Olivet, 
And  love  is  Galilee. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 
DAMASCUS  AND  THE  LEBANON  MOUNTAIN. 

Our  little  train  steamed  and  snorted  up  the  hills 
and  through  the  ravines  of  Bashan  like  Bashan's 
bellowing  bulls.  Bashan  means  soft,  sandy  soil  and 
after  you  climb  to  the  top  of  the  great  plateau  you 
may  think  it  well  named.  It  is  a  fertile  land  and 
some  of  it  well  watered.  Our  journey  all  day  lay 
through  the  hills  and  plains  of  this  land  that  was 
given  to  the  tribe  of  Manasseh,  and  then  we  entered 
the  land  of  Syria  which  is  not  really  Canaan,  not 
being  a  part  of  the  Promised  Land  occupied  by  the 
children  of  Israel.  While  this  land  is  not  considered 
Palestine  proper  it  is  so  closely  related  to  the  rest 
af  the  Holy  Land  and  so  links  its  history  with  that 
of  Israel  that  it  is  generally  classed  with  it. 

The  greatest  city  in  Syria  is  Damascus.  It  is 
the  oldest  city  in  the  world  and  one  of  the  most  in- 
teresting. They  tell  a  story  there  that  once  upon  a 
time  three  Knights  came  riding  over  the  plain  on  fine 
Arabian  steeds  and  gallantly  and  proudly  entered 
the  city.  So  charmed  were  they  with  the  city  that 
they  each  desired  to  take  the  name  for  his  horse; 
but  waxing  into  a  warm  dispute  over  who  should 
claim  this  honor  they  submitted  the  case  to  a  smart 
lady  they  chanced  to  meet.  She  sat  as  judge  hear- 
ing each  press  his  claim  and  then  she  rendered  a 
decision  to  the  effect  that  each  had  equal  right  to 
the  name,  but  it  would  not  do  to  name  all  the  horses 
Damascus,  so  they  must  divide  the  name  one  would 
be  Dam,  the  other  Ass,  and  the  third  Cuss. 


406  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

They  tell  another  story  of  Mohammed,  the 
prophet  of  Islam,  who  came  this  way  to  enter  the 
city.  Passing  over  the  barren  plains  he  looked  upon 
the  gardens  and  streams,  and  all  the  fruit  and  pow- 
ers of  the  city  as  he  rested  on  a  hill.  So  over- 
come was  he  with  the  beauty  and  charm  of  the  city 
that  he  turned  away  with  a  sigh  saying,  "Man  can- 
not have  but  one  Paradise  and  I  want  mine  in  the 
other  world,  not  this  one." 

The  city  is  beautiful,  though  its  beauty  is  made 
more  striking  because  it  is  the  only  city  in  this  part 
of  the  country,  and  nestles  in  an  oasis  in  the  midst 
of  barrenness.  To  enter  it  you  pass  over  barren 
plains  that  make  a  striking  background,  bringing 
out  the  beauties  of  the  place.  The  thing  that  makes 
Damascus  beautiful,  yea,  that  gives  its  existence  is 
the  Abana  River.  It  hurries  down  from  the  Ante 
Lebanon  mountains  ten  miles  away  as  though  it 
must  waste  no  time  in  bringing  its  waters  of  life  to 
Damascus.  Just  before  reaching  the  city  it  slows 
its  pace  and  from  one  narrow  stream  it  divides  it- 
self into  seven  that  flow  through  this  oasis,  and 
Damascus  with  beautiful  flower  gardens,  and  gar- 
dens full  of  fruit,  sits  like  a  queen  not  upon  seven 
hills  like  Rome,  but  upon  the  banks  of  seven  streams. 
After  giving  Damascus  its  beauty  and  life  these 
streams  soon  disappeared  in  the  sands  as  though 
the  work  was  done  and  like  man  when  his  task  is 
finished  find  their  grave  in  the  sands. 

Naaman,  the  mighty  Syrian  (2  Ki.  5)  lived  here 
and  when  a  little  maid  in  his  home  who  had  been 
brought  from  the  land  of  Israel  as  a  captive  learned 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  407 

her  master  had  leprosy  and  could  get  no  cure  she 
told  him  a  prophet  back  in  Israel  could  heal  him. 
He  made  the  long  journey  with  what  feelings  we 
do  not  know,  but  he  went  seeking  health,  and  a  man 
will  go  to  the  ends  of  the  earth  on  a  slight  hope  for 
that.  The  prophet  told  him  to  wash  seven  times 
in  Jordan,  and  Naaman  grew  furious,  saying,  "Are 
not  Abana  and  Pharpar,  rivers  of  Damascus  better 
than  all  rivers  of  Israel?"  It  gives  us  pain  to  say 
it,  but  it  is  true.  Abana  is  more  beautiful  than 
Jordan  but  not  better.  At  last  the  proud  old  fel- 
low was  humbled  and  obeyed,  coming  from  his  Jor- 
dan bath  healed  of  the  dread  disease.  They  showed 
us  the  home  of  Naaman,  where  a  leper  colony  is 
maintained  to  care  for  those  afflicted  with  the  dis- 
ease he  had.    Strange  but  fitting  memorial. 

We  visited  the  Street  called  Straight.  It  is  full 
•f  bazaars,  dogs  and  donkeys,  but  it  is  beyond  and 
above  all  those  things  for  which  this  street  is  re- 
nowned. It  marks  the  place  of  the  conversion  that 
changed  Saul  of  Tarsus,  the  persecutor,  to  Paul  the 
apostle,  the  persecuted.  He  was  smitten  blind  on  the 
road  into  the  city  and  conducted  here  to  this  street 
to  the  home  of  Judas  where  through  the  prayers  of 
Annanias  he  found  his  sight  and  his  Saviour.  Every 
Christian  feels  like  pausing  here,  for  there  is  no 
event  in  the  church  since  Pentecost  that  meant  as 
much  as  the  conversion  of  Paul,  the  mightiest  apostle 
the  Church  of  Christ  ever  had. 

We  had  a  pleasant  hotel  in  Damascus  and  found 
some  pleasant  American  travellers  there.  Our  fare 
was  very  good,  especially  the  fruit  which  was  plen- 


408  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD  WORLD 

tiful  and  delicious.  It  did  much  to  offset  the  ever- 
present  mutton.  We  visited  the  points  of  interest 
in  the  city,  including  the  mosques,  the  grave  of 
the  mighty  Saladin,  the  greatest  Turk  that  ever 
lived,  for  it  was  he  who  conquered  all  this  land  for 
Mohammed  more  than  seven  hundred  years  ago.  We 
enjoyed  excursions  in  the  streets  where  it  seemed 
we  found  more  pups  than  we  did  in  Constantinople. 
Our  ladies  had  one  privilege  we  could  not  enjoy, 
they  visited  the  harem  of  one  of  the  rich  men,  and 
brought  back  glowing  reports  of  the  gorgeous  quar- 
ters, and  the  charming  wives.  We  were  left  out, 
for  no  man,  not  even  near  kin,  can  cross  the  thresh- 
old of  the  harem.  But  we  didn't  care.  Who  would 
want  to  go  to  an  old  harem?  They  were  not  ahead 
of  us.  We  could  go  to  our  lodge  and  they  couldn't. 
Before  we  left  Damascus  we  climbed  a  high  hill 
that  overlooked  the  city  and  gazed  down  upon  it, 
and  beyond  the  city  we  looked  out  upon  the  wide 
ocean  of  sand.  Caravans  of  camels  were  coming 
over  the  sand  dunes.  They  looked  like  ships  sail- 
ing over  the  waves  of  the  sea.  Others  were  going 
out.  Thus  they  carried  on  the  commerce  of  the 
world  back  beyond  Babylon  and  Bagdad  into  regions 
unknown  and  unexplored  by  civilized  men.  For  the 
wide  stretch  of  those  unknown  sands  we  call  desert 
because  we  don't  know  what  it  is.  It  is  full  of  sons 
of  Ishmael,  roving  desert  men.  No  man  owns  that 
land.  No  man  has  ever  conquered  it  or  them  and 
the  prophecies  of  the  Bible  say  no  man  ever  will. 
They  send  horses,  sheep,  grain  and  other  things  out 
to  the  world  and  from  the  world  they  get  some 


Travels  in  the  old  world  409 

things,  but  the  world  has  little  they  want.  They 
live  in  tents  of  goat's  hair  which  the  Bible  calls  the 
black  tents  of  Kedar.  God  said  of  him  before  he 
was  born,  "He  will  be  a  wild  man,  his  hand  will  be 
against  every  man  and  every  man's  hand  against 
him;  and  he  shall  dwell  in  the  presence  of  all  his 
brethren."  Gen.  16:12.  "I  will  make  of  him  a 
great  name."  Gen.  17:20.  These  Ishmaelites  have 
brought  down  the  Abrahamic  teachings  and  in  many 
respects  have  been  truer  to  their  origin  than  the 
Jews.  Religion  is  making  slow  but  sure  progress 
among  them.  The  Standard  Oil  Company  has  de- 
cided to  put  a  lamp  in  all  the  tents  of  Ishmael  and 
the  Church  of  Christ  ought  to  put  the  light  of 
Christ  in  all  their  tents.  When  the  children  of 
Ishmael  and  Isaac  turn  to  Christ  it  will  be  a  great 
victory.  A  careful  study  of  these  strange  Bible 
people  is  interesting  and  well  worth  the  time. 

Damascus  there  below  us  taking  in  and  sending 
out  these  ships  of  the  desert  seemed  a  big  seaport 
in  this  ocean  of  sand.  Strange  did  it  look  that  day. 
Torn  by  strife  and  war,  sacked  and  pillaged,  made 
horrible  by  massacre  of  Christians,  beseiged  by 
armies,  with  no  defense  it  has  lived  on  as  a  city 
since  before  the  days  of  Abraham,  and  it  will  be  a 
city  when  God  calls  time  on  the  world. 

To  the  southwest  rose  Mt.  Hermon,  its  head  ever 
white  with  snow,  over  ten  thousand  feet  above  the 
sea.  It  is  generally  agreed  by  Bible  students  now 
that  on  the  side  of  this  mountain  was  the  scene  of 
the  transfiguration.  You  cannot  get  away  from  Mt. 
Hermon  anywhere  in  this  part  of  the  country.    It 


410  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD  WORLD 

even  stands  as  though  white  with  age  looking  down 
upon  you  from  the  eternal  snows  while  sometimes 
you  are  burning  in  the  sun. 

From  Damascus  we  journeyed  up  through  the 
beautiful  valley  of  Coele,  Syria,  rich  in  lands  and 
fruits  with  the  Lebanons  on  one  side,  and  the  Ante- 
Lebanons  on  the  other,  lifting  their  snowy  heads 
high  toward  the  skies,  while  down  in  the  valley  we 
felt  the  burning  heat  of  Syria's  sun.  Our  jour- 
ney for  several  miles  was  along  the  banks  of  the 
Abana  and  Pharpar,  whose  cooling  streams  of  clear 
water  rushed  over  the  rocks  between  banks  heavy- 
loaded  with  fruits  and  flowers. 

The  Moslems  claim  that  it  was  from  this  very 
dirt  God  made  Adam,  and  we  passed  through  the 
place  they  call  the  Garden  of  Eden,  and  saw  the  very 
tree  on  which  the  fruit  grew  that  tempted  mother, 
Eve(?)  Further  on  we  came  to  the  grave  of  Noah. 
It  is  two  hundred  feet  long,  yet  the  Turks  claim  the 
old  fellow  was  so  large  that  he  is  greatly  cramped 
for  room,  and  had  to  double  up  his  knees  and  put 
his  feet  straight  down.  If  his  sons  and  their  wives 
were  of  equal  proportions  the  ark  was  a  whopper. 
But  we  banished  these  foolish  Turkish  legends  from 
our  minds  and  gave  our  minds  to  more  profitable 
reflections. 

In  the  evening  we  came  to  Baalbeck.  Here  we 
were  to  spend  the  Sabbath,  and  it  was  indeed  a  fine 
place  to  spend  it.  In  front  of  us  were  the  Lebanon 
mountains  with  the  far-famed  cedars  of  Lebanon, 
waving  their  branches  toward  the  skies.  Here  was 
the  place  whence  came  the  timbers  of  the  temple 


TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD  411 

in  Jerusalem.  Before  our  hotel  stood  the  stately- 
ruins  of  the  temple  of  Baalbeck,  the  grandest  ruins 
of  the  world.  It  would  be  impossible  to  give  any- 
thing like  a  clear  description  of  these  ruins,  which 
are  on  such  a  mammoth  scale  that  even  when  you 
read  volumes  on  its  history  and  structure  you  are 
stunned  when  you  pass  over  its  fallen  stones  to  find 
it  so  much  grander  than  you  thought. 

Its  history  goes  so  far  back  in  the  dawn  of  his- 
tory that  like  Egypt  it  is  lost  in  the  dawning  of 
the  ages.  Every  civilization  has  built  more  to  it. 
You  can  clearly  trace  the  works  of  Solomon,  the 
Romans,  Greeks,  Crusaders,  Christians  and  the 
Turks  besides  those  who  come  before  all  these.  It 
is  the  Baalgad  mentioned  in  the  Bible  (Josh.  11 :17 
and  13:5).  It  meant  the  city  of  The  Sun,  where 
from  earliest  times  people  worshipped  Baal,  the 
sun  God.  Solomon  was  led  off  by  some  of  his  wives 
who  were  Baal  worshippers  and  used  his  skill  to 
add  to  the  glories  of  Baalbeck. 

While  I  cannot  attempt  anything  like  a  descrip- 
tion or  a  history  of  the  ruins  there  are  a  few  facts 
I  desire  to  record.  The  temple  covered  about  two 
hundred  thousand  square  feet,  being  five  hundred 
feet  long  and  four  hundred  feet  wide.  It  had  about 
one  hundred  and  twenty  great  pillars,  many  of  them 
red  marble,  which  are  said  to  have  come  from  Egypt 
as  no  such  stone  has  been  discovered  elsewhere. 
Many  of  these  pillars  are  over  nine  feet  in  diameter 
and  over  sixty  feet  long.  How  they  were  ever 
brought  up  into  these  mountains  and  put  in  place 
is  a  mystery  too  great  for  me. 


412  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD  WORLD 

But  the  thing*  that  dazed  me  more  than  anything 
I  saw  was  three  huge  stones  in  the  wall  of  this 
temple.  One  is  sixty-four  feet  long,  thirteen  feet 
thick  and  seventeen  feet  wide.  Another  is  sixty- 
three  feet  and  eight  inches  long  with  the  other 
dimensions  the  same  as  the  first,  while  the  other  is 
even  sixty-three  feet  with  width  and  heighth  the 
same.  These  stones  are  about  ten  feet  from  the 
foundation  and  are  put  together  with  such  preci- 
sion that  a  penknife  blade  will  not  go  between  them. 
There  is  a  stone  down  in  the  quarry  a  mile  away 
where  these  came  from  that  is  greater  still.  It  is 
fourteen  by  seventeen  and  sixty-nine  feet  long, 
weighing  about  one  thousand  tons.  It  is  left  in  the 
quarry  unfinished.  Either  the  workmen  struck  or 
the  machinery  broke  down,  either  of  which  would 
not  seem  improbable.  This  temple  when  finished, 
and  covered  with  gold,  must  have  been  a  grand 
sight  standing  there  upon  the  high  hill  facing  the 
sunrise.  It  could  be  seen  for  miles  and  must  have 
made  a  great  impression  on  those  people  who  were 
so  easily  led  to  idolatrous  worship. 

Some  of  our  party  almost  lost  their  wits  trying 
to  think  how  these  great  stones  were  moved  a  mile 
up  hill  and  put  in  the  side  of  the  wall,  along  with 
unravelling  some  other  mysteries  of  the  building. 
Expert  engineers  of  our  time  have  not  been  able  to 
bid  for  the  contract.  We  exhausted  all  the  theories 
we  could  think  of  and  they  all  seemed  inadequate. 
It  seemed  to  me  something  had  to  be  done  to  relieve 
the  anxiety  of  some  of  them,  so  I  gave  notice  I  had 
worked  out  the  theory  beyond  all  doubt.    It  was  a 


TRAVELS  IN  THE  OLD  WORLD  413 

heathen  temple  and  the  Lord  didn't  have  anything 
to  do  with  it.  Man  couldn't  build  it,  therefore  the 
devil  did  it.  It  had  been  a  long  time  since  I  studied 
Logic,  but  I  thought  I  would  risk  this.  The  devil 
wanted  to  build  him  a  temple  over  here  that  would 
rival  Solomon's  in  Jerusalem,  so  he  got  a  big  crowd 
of  little  devils  and  middle-size  devils  to  help  him, 
and  they  dug  out  these  big  rocks  and  pillars  and 
some  pitched  them  up  there,  while  others  caught 
them  and  put  them  in  place  like  men  laying  brick. 
My  theory  seemed  more  plausible  than  any  advanced 
and  was  accepted.  Before  I  took  leave  I  purchased 
from  the  learned  French  Professor  who  had  charge 
of  these  ruins  a  book  he  has  written  on  their  his- 
tory, and  in  reading  the  theories  advanced  as  to  the 
construction,  to  my  surprise  I  found  that  before 
the  days  of  Christ  it  was  believed  the  devil  did 
build  it. 

Our  Sabbath  was  profitable  and  interesting  medi- 
tating in  such  scenes,  and  walking  beside  these  flow- 
ing streams  in  the  midst  of  fruit  gardens  under  the 
shadow  of  Lebanon.  Poor  would  be  the  heart  that 
such  a  Sabbath  would  not  bless.  After  supper  we 
met  in  the  hotel  for  a  religious  service.  It  was  my 
privilege  to  preside  over  this  service  while  Dr.  Best 
preached  an  excellent  sermon. 

On  Monday  we  went  to  the  station  for  our  last 
day's  journey  to  the  sea.  I  was  thinking  of  the 
days  ahead  of  us  when  on  the  Mediterranean,  fruit 
would  be  scarce  and  mutton  plentiful,  so  Brother 
Williams  and  myself  purchased  from  a  man  at  the 
station  a  basket  of  the  largest  and  most  delicious 


414  TRAVELS  IN  THE  OLD  WORLD 

apricots  I  have  ever  seen.  The  basket  was  a  nice 
one,  made  in  the  Lebanons,  and  held  about  a  peck. 
We  ate  those  apricots  and  will  never  forget  them. 
The  basket  I  brought  all  the  way  home  and  have  it 
on  the  table  now.  The  price  was  two  francs — forty 
cents.  We  divided  with  some  of  the  ladies  who 
were  threatened  with  seasickness. 

We  told  Philip  and  his  brothers  good-bye,  and  it 
seemed  like  parting  with  brothers.  They  took  the 
boat  for  Joppa  and  we  boarded  a  ship  by  way  of 
Egypt.  The  sun  sank  lower  and  lower  beyond  the 
waters  of  the  Mediterranean  casting  its  soft  mantle 
of  evening  light  upon  the  Lebanons  and  the  shore- 
line of  Palestine.  For  a  little  time  the  land  seemed 
transfigured  in  the  twilight  as  we  gazed  on  it  from 
the  deck  of  our  boat,  thinking  of  the  things  we  had 
seen  and  felt,  and  the  history  that  land  had  written. 

Then  the  light  faded,  the  night  came,  and  the  stars 
came  out,  the  land  faded  from  our  eyes  but  not  from 
our  hearts.  The  breath  of  the  night  was  on  our 
faces,  the  waves  were  singing  at  our  boat  side,  as 
our  ship  turned  her  nose  to  the  out-bound  seas  and 
set  her  strength  to  the  wheel.  Our  journey  in  Pales- 
tine was  ended.  No,  it  had  just  begun.  Until  we 
land  on  the  Promised  Hills  of  Everlasting  Life  our 
hearts  will  travel  those  paths  over  and  over  again. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

COMING  HOME  THRU  CLOUDS  OF  WAR. 

(August,  1914) 

Rev.  W.  E.  Gibson,  D.  D.,  and  myself  left  our 
party  in  Rome  and  headed  homeward.  We  had 
heard  grave  rumblings  of  war.  The  others  begged 
us  to  stay  with  them  and  go  on  to  France.  The 
plan  was  to  colonize  when  travel  ceased  and  call 
for  Uncle  Sam  to  help  us.  But  we  were  bent  on 
going.  Somewhat  dazed  we  told  them  goodbye,  and 
went  to  the  ticket  office  to  have  our  tickets  endorsed. 
We  were  to  sail  on  a  German  boat.  Imagine  our 
surprise  when  we  were  told  no  German  ship  was  on 
the  seas.  France,  Russia  and  Germany  were  at 
war  and  England  was  likely  to  act  at  any  minute. 
The  ships  of  these  nations  were  all  ordered  interned 
where  they  were  and  their  flags  were  off  the  seas. 

While  we  stood  dazed  trying  to  take  this  in,  an 
American  woman  rushed  by  and  demanded  twenty- 
seven  tickets  to  America.  She  had  a  party  of  teach- 
ers who  must  get  home  for  school.  I  waited,  for 
I,  too,  wanted  to  go  home,  and  I  thought  if  that  sis- 
ter went,  I  would  swing  on  to  her  apron  string  or 
anything  else  I  could  hold  and  go  with  her.  The 
ticket  man  told  her  she  could  not  go  unless  she  got 
on  the  Conopic,  an  English  boat  in  Naples,  one  hun- 
dred and  fifty  miles  away.  She  was  due  to  sail  to- 
morrow at  5:30  P.  M.  She  might  intern  or  she 
might  go  to  England. 

"Wire  down  there  for  our  passage,"  cried  the 
schoolmarm,  as  tho  it  must  be  done. 


416  TRAVELS  IN  THE  OLD  WORLD 

"There  is  no  use,  madam,  the  Government  has 
confiscated  the  wires.  If  I  could  wire,  they  would 
not  hold  passage  for  you.  There  are  fifty  thousand 
folks  who  will  want  to  go  on  that  boat  by  tomorrow. 
Your  only  hope  is  to  go  to  Naples  and  try." 

"When  does  the  train  go?" 

"At  10.    It  is  9:40  now." 

"I  can't  get  my  party  together." 

I  heard  no  more.  I  caught  Gibson  by  the  coat  tail 
and  yanked  him  out  into  the  street.  We  caught  the 
first  cab  driver  we  could  find,  yelled  "Macaroni 
depot"  in  his  ear  and  gave  him  two  francs.  He 
broke  the  speed  limit  and  dumped  us  in  the  station. 
We  yelled,  "Cook,  Cook,"  and  the  agent  of  Thomas 
Cook  &  Sons,  the  tourists'  friend,  came.  We  gave 
him  money  to  buy  our  tickets  and  tipped  him.  As 
the  wheels  of  the  Naples  train  began  to  turn,  he 
shoved  us  in  a  section  of  a  car  occupied  by  two 
American  ladies  and  a  handsome  Italian  lady.  We 
leaned  forward  to  help  that  train  make  time.  The 
glorious  history  of  these  hills  and  the  processions 
that  long  ago  moved  on  the  Apian  way  were  not  in 
our  meditations. 

Before  the  train  halted  by  the  beautiful  Bay  of 
Naples,  we  hit  the  ground  running.  We  stormed 
another  cab  driver,  put  money  in  his  hand  and  made 
him  understand.  He  seemed  to  think  our  mission 
urgent  and  he  gave  old  Dobbin  gas  and  opened  wide 
his  accelerator.  We  entered  the  German  Steamship 
office  and  asked  for  money  back  on  our  tickets. 
Strange  to  say,  we  got  it.  I  have  never  heard  of 
anyone  else  who  did. 


mAVELS  IN  THE  OLD  WORLD  417 

Then  we  hurried  to  the  English  office  nearby 
and  got  in  line.  They  were  coming  from  Dan  to 
Beersheba  and  all  of  them  wanted  to  go  to  New  York. 
When  our  turn  came  he  asked  us  what  he  could  do 
for  us.  We  told  him  nothing  under  the  sun  unless 
he  could  sell  us  a  ticket  out  of  Italy  on  the  Canopic. 
As  we  spoke,  we  could  see  her  swinging  on  her 
anchor,  the  Union  Jack  flying  in  the  breeze  and  a 
boat  and  a  flag  never  looked  so  beautiful.  Our  flag 
was  not  there  and  our  hearts  went  out  in  admira- 
tion for  the  British  Flag.  Great  Old  Flag!  The 
Germans  never  did  drive  it  off  the  seas.  The  whole 
world — America  included,  owes  much  to  the  British 
flag. 

The  ticket  agent  said  he  was  not  sure  he  could 
get  us  on  the  boat.  It  was  now  beyond  its  capacity. 
He  looked  over  the  list  once  and  found  nothing. 
Our  hearts  were  sinking  and  all  the  music  we  could 
think  of  was,  "My  Country  'tis  of  Thee,  Sweet  Land 
of  Liberty."  He  looked  again  and  his  pencil  halted 
almost  at  the  bottom  of  the  last  page  of  the  sail- 
ing list. 

"I  want  to  accommodate  you  gentlemen  but  the 
only  place  we  have  is  a  room  that  is  already  occu- 
pied by  a  gentleman,  who  travels  our  line  every 
summer.  He  is  very  particular  about  rooming  by 
himself  and  purchased  pjassage  with  the  undeiv 
standing  that  he  was  to  have  the  room  to  himself. 
It  is  a  small  room  and  if  you  can  make  it  satisfactory 
with  him,  I  will  sell  you  a  ticket." 

We  assured  him  he  could  trust  us  to  fix  the  mat- 
ter with  that  gentleman,  and  we  were  not  concerned 


418  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

about  his  name  or  his  nationality.  We  got  the 
tickets  and  got  aboard.  We  found  the  room  which 
was  about  half  as  big  as  a  half  grown  pantry.  We 
put  our  goods  where  we  could  and  took  charge. 
After  a  while,  the  occupant  came  in.  We  advanced, 
introduced  ourselves  and  told  him  this  was  our  room 
to  New  York  and  we  would  be  glad  for  him  to  share 
it  with  us  provided  he  had  no  other  place. 

We  did  not  have  room  to  go  to  bed  at  the  same 
time  and  had  to  do  it  on  the  installment  plan.  Having 
been  raised  in  the  country,  the  place  everybody 
should  be  raised  if  he  can  possibly  arrange  it,  I 
like  to  go  to  bed  early  and  get  early.  (In  the  country 
we  do  not  retire  and  rise,  we  go  to  bed  and  get  up) 
so  I  drew  the  first  shift.  Gibson  came  next  and  the 
new  man  last.  He  was  a  Quaker  preacher  and  his 
name  was  Welch.  He  must  not  be  confused  with  the 
Methodist  Welch  heretofore  and  hereinafter  men- 
tioned. He  was  not  kin  to  the  other  Welch  but 
was  just  as  expert  in  some  lines  as  the  Methodist  is 
in  others.  When  I  learned  he  was  a  Quaker 
preacher,  I  knew  trouble  was  ahead.  I  believed  in 
pouring  for  Baptism,  Gibson  believed  in  dipping 
and  Welch  didn't  take  any  kind.  Gibson  believed 
in  close  communion,  I  believed  in  falling  from  Grace 
and  Welch  believed  in  wearing  his  hat  in  the  house, 
and  in  doing  when  the  spirit  moved  him.  To  mix 
such  a  conglomeration  in  a  pantry  room  for  ten 
nights  in  time  of  war  is  enough  to  cause  spontaneous 
combustion.  Just  as  well  try  to  mix  the  germs  of 
Germany,  the  microbes  of  Iceland  and  the  atoms  of 
the  atmosphere  in  a  bottle  and  expect  to  keep  in 


TRAVELS  IN  THE   OLD  WORLD  419 

the  stopper,  as  to  but  these  three  in  a  little  room  to 
sleep  and  expect  things  to  stay  normal.  And  Tom- 
my son,  things  did  happen.  It  was  as  spicy  a  pud- 
ding as  ever  you  tasted.    If  you  listen  I  will  tell  you. 

Old  Vesuvius  was  belching  out  fire  against  the 
Italian  sky  as  we  set  sail.  The  stokers  struck  for 
the  war  was  on  and  if  a  boat  sinks  what  chance  does 
the  man  at  the  furnace  have?  They  were  persuaded 
to  return.  Folks  offered  thousands  of  dollars  for 
standing  room  on  the  boat.  An  Italian  Count  stole 
on  and  hid  himself  until  we  were  well  out  at  sea. 
A  wealthy  couple  who  went  over  with  us  and  lived 
in  style  in  Paris  went  back  in  the  steerage.  A  man 
purchased  passage  for  his  wife,  sending  her  to  the 
children  while  he  remained  behind. 

The  first  bulletin  on  the  wireless  the  first  morning 
told  us  two  submarines  were  behind  us  and  had 
blown  up  a  transport,  carrying  a  thousand  soldiers. 
The  next  told  us  submarines  were  working  on  the 
ocean  front.  The  next  morning  the  board  said, 
"Owing  to  the  gravity  of  the  situation,  the  captain 
deems  it  best  to  withhold  further  information. 
England  declared  war  yesterday."  Lights  were 
ordered  out  and  the  ship  crept  out  on  the  wide  old 
sea  in  utter  darkness.  When  we  went  to  our  bunks 
to  sleep,  we  felt  a  torpedo  might  summon  us  to  the 
judgment  before  morning.  Looking  back,  the  hard- 
est thing  on  me  was  wondering  about  the  folks  at 
home.  I  wired  my  wife  I  was  on  the  Canopic,  but 
would  she  get  it?  What  worries  the  home  folks 
must  face !  Two  things  did  not  fail  me — the  Grace 
of  God  and  my  sense  of  good  humor. 


420  TRAVELS  IN  THE  OLD  WORLD 

That  Quaker  could  do  more  things,  going  to  bed 
and  getting  up  than  any  man  I  ever  saw.  I  did 
not  know  there  were  so  many  things  in  the  catalog. 
He  went  to  a  wall  pocket  at  the  foot  of  my  couch 
and  fumbled  after  the  blacking  and  the  brush 
tickling  my  toes  as  he  did  it.  Among  my  peculiari- 
ties is,  I  do  not  like  for  people  to  tickle  my  toes  when 
I  am  trying  to  go  asleep.  When  he  blacked  his  shoes, 
he  replaced  the  outfit  and  tickled  my  toes  as  he  did 
it.  He  then  went  to  the  head  of  my  couch  where  he 
kept  his  toilet  articles.  He  got  out  his  clothes  brush 
scratching  and  fumbling  as  he  did  it.  He  brushed 
his  clothes,  creased  and  folded  them  and  gently 
placed  them  under  his  bunk.  He  went  back  to  the 
wall  pocket,  got  out  his  shaving  outfit.  His  razor 
was  an  ancient  type  and  his  stropping  process  was 
enough  to  break  up  the  peace  of  a  department  house. 
He  stropped  and  soaped  and  shaved.  Then  he  got 
out  of  that  pocket,  three  different  tubes  of  concoc- 
tion to  put  on  his  face.  One  I  suppose  was  to  pre- 
vent chapping,  one  to  prevent  wrinkles  and  one  to 
preserve  beauty. 

I  am  not  finding  fault  with  him  for  using  these. 
He  needed  them.  If  there  is  anything  on  earth  men 
and  women  can  do  to  improve  their  faces,  they  ought 
to  do  it.  If  some  of  them  have  two  faces,  they  ought 
to  wear  the  other  one. 

Then  he  brushed  his  teeth  and  washed  out  his 
mouth  with  three  kinds  of  anti-germ  killing  sani- 
tary preparations.  Then  he  brushed  the  few  re- 
maining hairs  that  remained  on  his  pate,  soothed 
and  fertilized  them  with  three  persuasive  fluids  he 


TRAVELS  IN  THE   OLD  WORLD  421 

hoped  would  coax  them  to  linger  a  few  more  moons. 
Next  he  took  from  under  his  bunk  a  portfolio  and 
brought  out  some  things  he  said  were  landscapes  he 
painted  in  northen  Italy,  for  he  said  in  addition  to 
being  a  preacher,  he  was  an  artist.  And  when  a 
preacher  takes  to  art  or  golf,  you  better  sing  an 
offertory  and  let  the  ushers  pass  the  plates.  The 
things  may  have  been  landscapes,  but  in  the  dim 
light  allowed  us,  they  looked  like  billy-goats.  After 
this,  he  said  his  prayers,  as  every  saint  and  sinner 
ought  to  do  in  time  of  peace  as  well  as  war,  and 
then  at  last  he  went  thru  some  bodily  manipulations 
called  physical — or  silly  culture  and  got  in  bed.  It 
took  him  one  hour  and  fifteen  minutes  to  render  the 
program  without  any  encores. 

But  the  worst  of  it  was,  he  gave  us  a  matinee  at 
3  A.  M.  That  is  where  and  when  I  bucked.  It  is 
where  and  when  the  Methodist  and  Baptist's  faith 
combined  to  persecute  the  Quaker.  I  said  to  Gibson 
the  next  morning, 

"If  that  fellow  thinks  we  are  going  to  submit  to 
that  matinee,  the  telephone  girl  gave  him  the  wrong 
number." 

"I  will  stand  by  you  in  anything  you  do  to  him 
unless  you  kill  him,"  said  the  Baptist. 

"Leave  it  to  me,"  I  answered.  "If  he  starts  the 
matinee  tonight,  something  will  happen  on  the  high 
seas." 

About  2:30  A.  M.  he  started  the  first  number  on 
the  matinee  program.  It  was  his  physical  exercise. 
Then  he  came  to  the  second  number.    He  sat  down 


422  TRAVELS    IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

on  his  feet,  took  out  his  portfolio  with  a  hideous 
rattling  of  stiff  paper  and  began  to  look  at  his  land- 
scapes. No  light  was  on  save  the  moon  shinng  in 
the  porthole  and  gleaming  on  his  bald  head  that 
looked  like  a  Bermuda  onion  in  an  Italian  restaurant. 
I  quietly  removed  my  blanket,  got  myself  up  so  I 
could  act  and  without  his  knowing,  I  had  moved,  I 
leaped  down  upon  him,  got  him  by  his  night  shirt 
collar  and  yelled  like  a  Camanchee  Indian  ready  to 
tomahawk  him  and  wear  his  scalp  away,  on  my  belt. 
He  leaped  up  and  yelled,  "Have  the  Germans  got 
us?"  and  went  in  his  bunk  with  such  a  vim,  he  almost 
went  thru  the  wall.  I  turned  about  a  time  or  two, 
muttered  something,  kicked  up  my  heels  and  got 
back  in  bed.  The  next  morning,  he  awoke  looking 
at  me  and  asked  me  if  he  could  get  up.  I  told  him 
he  could,  and  he  dressed  and  got  out  in  seven 
minutes.  That  night  he  poked  his  head  in  the  door 
and  asked  if  he  could  go  to  bed.  I  told  him  he  could 
and  he  got  in  bed  in  seven  minutes. 

He  suddenly  concluded  I  was  in  the  habit  of 
having  fits  which  is  true.  It  was  on  this  trip  down 
in  Egypt,  I  contracted  the  habit  of  having  fits.  I 
was  riding  in  a  carriage  with  a  lady  and  two  gentle- 
men when  we  came  to  a  dirty  street  full  of  bad  look- 
ing characters.  They  blocked  the  traffic  and  be- 
sieged us.  Some  of  them  looked  like  canibals  and 
did  like  they  wanted  to  use  us  for  a  picnic  stew. 
They  surrounded  us,  begging,  pleading,  muttering. 
They  tried  to  get  in  our  carriage  and  got  their 
hands  in  our  pockets.    We  begged  and  threatened 


TRAVELS  IN  THE  OLD  WORLD  423 

but  it  seemed  to  do  no  good.  I  had  learned  they 
were  very  susceptible  to  supernatural  things.  Any- 
thing spooky  got  on  their  nerves.  I  suddenly  won- 
dered what  they  would  do  if  I  had  a  fit.  I  knew  if 
I  didn't  have  one  the  lady  would  and  I  wanted  to 
get  ahead  of  her.  I  was  raised  in  a  southern  atmos- 
phere that  will  make  a  man  do  anything  for  a  lady, 
so  I  had  the  fit.  I  rolled  my  eyes  about  like  a  sick 
calf,  chewed  my  tongue  and  slobbered  like  a  mad 
dog,  growled  like  a  wild  beast  and  pulled  at  my 
clothes  like  a  lunatic.  It  worked,  for  they  cleared 
the  street  and  left  us  free  to  go  our  way.  After 
that  when  they  needed  me,  they  called  for  me  to  have 
a  fit  and  it  worked.  It  will  always  work.  If  you 
have  any  undesirable  company,  you  try  this  on  them 
some  day  and  you  will  see  how  well  it  works. 

But  I  am  not  as  naughty  as  all  of  this  sounds. 
I  have  a  true  and  tender  heart.  A  few  nights  after 
this,  I  was  awake  thinking  of  my  sweetheart 
and  the  little  ones  across  the  wide  waters.  I  re- 
membered that  the  last  letter  said  the  little  girl 
said,  "I  dot  no  daddy  now.  He  went  over  the  big 
boshen  and  big  fish  et  him  up."  I  heard  the  waves 
rolling  by  the  boat  side  as  she  plowed  westward 
thru  the  death  infested  sea  and  the  song  they  seemed 
to  sing  was,  "I  am  nearer  my  home  today  than  I 
have  ever  been  before." 

Just  then,  I  heard  Welch  groan  like  he  was  sick 
and  I  put  my  hand  out  in  the  dark  to  touch  him, 
He  yelled  and  Gibson  said, 

"Shake  him.    He  has  a  nightmare." 


424  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

I  shook  him  with  both  hands  and  he  yelled  still 
louder.  Gibson  was  up  and  helping  me.  We  shook 
him  and  beat  him,  thinking  if  we  did  not  awake 
him,  he  would  die.  Some  girls  in  the  next  room 
began  to  cry  and  ask  if  the  Germans  had  captured 
the  boat.  Some  folks  came  running  in  and  made  a 
light.  At  last  he  was  awake  and  he  fell  back  on  his 
pillow  saying, 

"It  was  awful.    It  was  awful." 

"What  was  it?"  asked  Gibson. 

"An  old  bull  was  after  me,  running  me  around  a 
tree,"  he  said,  "And  when  you  hit  me,  I  thought  he 
had  hooked  me  clean  thru." 

Then  I  laughed.  I  had  not  laughed  much  for 
several  days  for  there  had  not  been  much  to  make 
me  laugh.  I  cannot  keep  well  long  without  laughing. 
Now  I  forgot  mines  and  submarines  as  I  saw  a 
Quaker  preacher  running  around  a  tree  in  his 
night  clothes  and  a  mad  bull  hot  on  his  trail. 

Our  wireless  man  picked  up  a  message  that  two 
German  war  ships  were  waiting  for  us  at  the  Azores. 
We  changed  our  course,  went  one  hundred  mile3 
north  and  beat  them  in  the  race  for  American 
waters.  The  New  York  office  wirelessed  for  us  but 
we  could  not  answer.  Then  the  report  was  started 
that  the  German  warships  had  captured  us  and 
carried  us  to  Germany  as  prisoners  of  war.  This 
was  wired  to  my  home  in  Richmond  and  for  five 
days  my  wife  believed  it.  But  in  seven  minutes 
after  I  was  on  American  soil,  I  had  my  phone  ring- 
ing in  Richmond  and  my  loved  ones  knew  I  had 


TRAVELS  IN  THE  OLD  WORLD  425 

safely  landed.    Down  into  old  Virginia  I  came  my 
heart  singing  with  Van  Dyke, 

"Home  again !  home  again !  America  for  me, 
My  heart  is  turning  home  again  to  my  own 

Country; 
Back  to  the  land  of  room  enough 

Beyond  the  ocean  bars, 
Where  the  air  is  full  of  freedom 
And  the  flag  is  full  of  stars. 


DEPARTMENT  OF  STATE 

Washington,   June   15,   1921. 
To  the  Diplomatic  and   Consular  Officers  of  the 

United  States  of  America: 
Gentlemen : 

At  the  instance  of  the  Honorable  Claude  A. 
Swanson,  Senator  of  the  United  States  from  the 
State  of  Virginia,  I  take  pleasure  in  introducing  to 
you  the  Reverend  J.  M.  Rowland  of  Lynchburg,  Vir- 
ginia, who  is  about  to  proceed  abroad. 

I  cordially  bespeak  for  the  Reverend  Mr.  Rowland 
such  courtesies  and  assistance  as  you  may  be  able 
to  render,  consistently  with  your  official  duties. 
I  am,  Gentlemen, 

Your  obedient  servant, 

HENRY  P.  FLETCHER, 
Acting  Secretary  of  State. 

COMMONWEALTH     OF     VIRGINIA,     UNITED 

STATES  OF  AMERICA. 

Governor's  Office 

Richmond,  June  11,  1921. 

To  Whom  It  May  Concern: 

Reverend  J.  M.  Rowland,  of  Lynchburg,  Virginia, 
proposes  to  take  a  party  through  Palestine,  Egypt 
and  Europe  this  summer  for  the  purpose  of  travel 
and  study,  returning  via  London  for  the  World 
Methodist  Conference. 


TRAVELS  IN  THE  OLD  WORLD  427 

I  desire  to  commend  Reverend  Mr.  Rowland,  who 
is  a  Methodist  minister  in  Virginia,  and  a  gentle- 
man of  high  character  and  distinguished  attain- 
ments, to  officials  and  those  with  whom  he  has  to 
do  during  his  trip. 

WESTMORELAND  DAVIS, 

Governor  of  Virginia. 

BISHOPS  ROOM 

PUBLISHING  HOUSE  M.  E.  CHURCH,  SOUTH 

Richmond,  Virginia,  United  States  of  America 

May  27,  1921. 
Rev.  J.  M.  Rowland,  the  pastor  of  the  Rivermont 
Methodist  Church,  of  Lynchburg,  Va.,  is  personally 
known  to  me,  and  is  altogether  reliable.  It  is  his 
purpose  to  conduct  a  party  through  Palestine,  Egypt, 
and  Europe,  and  he  asks  me,  as  one  of  the  Bishops 
of  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  South,  and  as 
Secretary  of  the  College  of  Bishops,  to  commend 
him  to  the  Government  authorities  as  a  reliable 
citizen  and  minister.  Rev.  Mr.  Rowland  can  be  fully 
trusted  as  a  patriotic  American,  and  as  an  honorable 
gentleman.  Any  statement  he  may  make  can  be 
relied  on. 

COLLINS  DENNY, 
Secretary  of  the  College  of  Bishops,  Methodist  Epis- 
copal Church,  South. 


428  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 

TRIBUTE  FROM  THE  PARTY. 

WHEREAS  our  party  of  sixteen,  Wicker  Tour 
No.  4,  1921,  have  travelled  together  most  pleasantly 
and  profitably  from  New  York,  visiting  Baal-Bek, 
Damascus,  the  Holy  Land  and  Egypt,  and 

WHEREAS  we  are  now  about  to  separate  after 
six  weeks  of  happy  comradeship 

THEREFORE  BE  IT  RESOLVED: 

1st.  That  we  thank  our  capable  friend  and  con- 
ductor, Rev.  J.  M.  Rowland  of  Lynchburg,  Virginia, 
for  the  efficient  and  courteous  way  he  has  managed 
the  excursion  of  Tour  4  through  these  countries  and 
that  we  congratulate  him  upon  his  success  as  a 
director. 

2nd.  That  we  extend  our  thanks  and  apprecia- 
tion to  George  Jallouk,  the  best  of  Oriental  guides, 
for  his  unfailing  courtesy,  and  thoughtf ulness  and  we 
especially  express  our  appreciation  to  him  and  his 
good  wife  for  their  hospitable  entertainment  of  our 
party  at  their  home  in  Jerusalem.  • 

3rd.  That  a  copy  of  these  resolutions  be  for- 
warded Dr.  J.  J.  Wicker,  and  a  copy  to  Rev.  J.  M. 
Rowland,  and  a  copy  to  George  Jallouk. 

W.  H.  T.  SQUIRES,  Sec'y. 
Done  by  Unanimous  vote 

Cairo,  Egypt,  Aug.  10,  1921. 


TRAVELS  IN  THE  OLD  WORLD  429 

OUR  1921  PARTY. 

Rev.  J.  M.  Rowland,  Editor  Richmond  Christian 
Advocate,  Conductor  of  the  Party,  Richmond,  Va. 

Rev.  W.  H.  T.  Squires,  D.  D.,  Pastor  Knox  Pres- 
byterian Church,  Norfolk,  Va. 

Rev.  E.  R.  Welch,  Pastor  Chestnut  Ave.  Methodist 
Church,  Asheville,  N.  C. 

Rev.  A.  L.  Stanford,  Pastor  Main  St.  Methodist 
Church,  Gastonia,  N.  C 

Rev.  C.  M.  Pickens,  Pastor  First  Methodist  Church, 
Morganton,  N.  C. 

Rev.  T.  J.  C.  Heath,  Pastor  Zion  Methodist  Church, 
Norfolk,  Va. 

Rev.  A.  P.  Ralledge,  Pastor  Methodist  Church, 
Elkins,  N.  C. 

Miss  Estelle  Warlick,  Professor  Bible,  Davenport 
College,  Lenoir,  N.  C. 

Mr.  F.  D.  McKenney,  Furniture  Dealer,  Peters- 
burg, Va. 

Mr.  J.  N.  Jarrett  and  wife,  Vice-President  Im- 
perial Insurance  Co.,  Raleigh,  N.  C. 

Mr.  J.  P.  Jarrett,  retired  business  man,  Raleigh, 
N.  C. 

Miss  Oliver  Widdowson,  Missionary,  China. 

Miss  Emma  Horning,  Missionary  to  India. 

Mr.  A.  W.  Short,  merchant,  Bloxom,  Va. 

Mr.  I.  G.  Jenkins,  Y.  M.  C.  A.,  Sect'y.,  Detroit, 
Mich. 


430  TRAVELS   IN   THE   OLD   WORLD 


EUROPEAN  SECTION  OF  THE  PARTY. 

This  party  joined  our  party  at  Naples  and  con- 
tinued with  us  the  rest  of  the  tour  through  Europe. 

Rev.  J.  J.  Wicker,  D.  D.  Evangelist  and  Director 
of  the  Wicker  Tours. 

Mrs.  J.  J.  Wicker,  of  Richmond,  Va. 

Rev.  G.  T.  Rowe,  D.  D.,  S.  T.  D.,  Book  Editor 
Methodist  Church,  South,  Nashville,  Tenn. 

Rev.  J.  H.  Barnhart,  D.  D.,  Pastor  West  Market 
Methodist  Church,  Greensboro,  N.  C. 

Rev.  V.  C.  Curtis,  D.  D.,  Pastor  First  Methodist 
Church,  Greenwood,  Miss. 

Mr.  J.  A.  Dornan,  merchant,  Richmond,  Va. 

Mrs.  J.  A.  Winston,  Richmond,  Va. 

Mr.  W.  Winston,  Richmond,  Va. 

Mrs.  M.  E.  Gathright,  Richmond,  Va. 

Miss  Wingo,  Richmond,  Va. 

Miss  Margaret  Webb,  Atlanta,  Ga. 

Miss  Pauline  Jones,  Portsmouth,  Va. 

Mrs.  B.  0.  Gratz,  Lexington,  Ky. 


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